


What we're fighting for

by Cattuesmountain



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Imprisonment, Love/Hate, Madness, Married Life, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 55,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: Henry is determined to execute his wife Catherine for adultery and treason. Her fate seems to be sealed, or is there anything or anyone who can save her?





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:"Reign" or the characters used in it are not mine, sad but true :-( Violations of any rights are not intended.  
Pairing: Catherine/Henry – Cathry  
Rating: M / P16  
Catergory: Romance, Drama  
Remarks: In my version neither Mary's mother arrived at French Court nor Nostradamus' supposedly change of vision happend yet. Francis is still on the road and has no idea of the impending beheading of his mother.

What we're fighting for

"His Royal Highness, King Henry the Second of France!" Even before the court marshall could finish his announcement, Henry already pushed open the heavy wooden doors and strode through the cram-full throne room. His eyes wandered pejoratively over the people bowing to him who had come here today in anticipation of a bloody spectacle. Without slowing down, the king went up to the gallery where the deathsman was already waiting in front of the scaffold, an impressive axe resting in his hands. He sat down on his throne. Diane, Sebastian and Mary, who had also entered the hall a few seconds later, headed to their assigned seats at his side. Henry prompted those present to sit down as well with an imperious gesture.

"They hardly can't wait for her blood to spurt," his mistress whispered in his ear as they both let their gaze wander over the crowd. He was indeed surprised to see so many gloating faces among his subjects, not to mention among his privy council.

Henry scratched his chin and searched the crowd for his children who would attend their mother's decapitation. Charles and Henry sat framed between Catherine's ladies in waiting and held hands. Were they really that young? How could he have forgotten how small the two boys still were? He should have left them stay in the nursery with three-year-old Margot. Even from this distance he could see how much his youngest son's lower lip trembled and how he kept wiping his eyes with his sleeve after eyeballing his brother.

Henry called one of his guards.  
"Bring my sons back to their room. But take one of the side entrances to avoid them seeing their mother. That would only upset them even more. Go now", he commanded and watched his guard escorting the two boys out of the hall.  
When he let his eyes wander again he caught Mary's gaze. She nodded gratefully in his direction but he ignored her silent approval and signaled his court marshal to continue instead.

"Her Royal Highness, Queen Consort Catherine de' Medici." Both doors were tore open and his wife appeared in the doorway, framed by four of his guards, who slowly walked down the corridor with a serious expression on their faces.  
Catherine's appearance caused a soft murmur but Henry paid no attention to the growing noise level. He was fully focused on his wife who strode along the aisle with her head held high despite her tied hands. She actually looked more like she was going to a ball. A blood ball in her case, ready for her last waltz.

Fittingly Catherine had chosen a blood red, wide robe he'd never seen her wear before. The skirts were long and had a train she was dragging behind her. Her corset on the other hand was extremely tight and emphasise her bosom that looked quite inviting and fuller than usual. Elaborately plaited braids adorned her head and stabilized her ruby-studded crown. On this special day she had refrained from putting the rest of her curls up as well.  
Her loose hair woke bittersweet memories in him.

The last time he had seen her like that, they had inflamed their old but still existing passion to a new fire of lust. A fire that in spite of the years still glowed deep inside their souls.  
Henry assumed that she chose this particular hairstyle on purpose. To remind him of that night. And that they once had loved each other.  
Or maybe she just wanted to burn this image of his beautiful and proud queen into his minds eyes. An image that would haunt him from that moment on until the end of his days.  
All of a sudden Catherine's eyes met his. Her brown, soulful eyes bored themselves deeply into the core of his very being. Unconsciously she slowed down her pace but their eye contact was abruptly cut off when a coarse hand placed itself on her shoulder to encourage her to move on.

"For sure she knows how to make a grand entrance, I must admit." Diane taunted and leaned forward to absorb every move her eternal rival made.

None of the hostile looks or outrageous shouts from the crowd seemed to reach his wife. They all ricocheted from her steel-hard armour she had built around her heart years ago. Her congealed expression didn't flutter even for a second. Henry could not help but admire her proud, almost defiant attitude in this great hour of farewell. Catherine was indeed a true queen.

And she had exceled herself with decorating the hall. A variety of colorful bouquets of flower adorned the room, spreading a sweetish scent. A fragrance that would soon be masked by the smell of freshly spilled blood.

When she came to a halt in front of the gallery, shouts from the crowd grew louder and louder.  
"Kill the Medici whore."  
"Off with her head!"  
"Just go ahead!"

Each demand fueled Henry's anger that started to seether and prompted him to clench his hands into fists. His anger was not directed at Catherine but rather at himself.  
"BE QUIET, will you?", he hollered indignantly.  
He was the only one being in the position to demand his wife's head. These impertinent plebs had no right to voice such outrageous requests. After all she was still their queen. Involuntarily he wondered what kind of husband he was for tolerating hostility of this kind that Catherine had to endure over all these years.  
But this realisation came too late.

Henry rose from his throne and looked down at his wife. Catherine returned his gaze, her very own stoic provocation lay in her eyes. Was he mistaken or did she even lift her right eyebrow as if questioning him?  
Irritated by her behavior he ordered the guards to escort his wife upstairs.  
"Catherine de' Medici - my wife and Queen of France. I hereby sentence you to death due to adultery and treason - against your husband, the Crown and France."

Even now Catherine did not move a muscle. She just stared at him with those piercing brown eyes until she nodded. Slowly she turned and looked at the sea of faces. Henry stepped up to her and observed her eying each of her ladies before her eyes flickered on. Surely she had already noticed that her sons were not present.

But who exactly was she looking for in the crowd? Maybe her charlatan, Nostradamus? The gigantic man did not seem to attend the decapitation of his mistress. Did he foresee this end for her?

His guards had reported that today next to the clergyman who had given Catherine the dying sacrament, also Nostradamus had visited her for a few minutes. And that the visit ended in severe fighting. In the end Catherine had literally kicked her seer out of her cell with hue and cry. This dispute had apparently prompted her old friend not to pay his mistress his last respect before she sighted out her soul.

"Catherine, it's time," he whispered so gently that only his wife and the waiting deathsman could hear his words. The urge to stroke her cheek in an apologetic gesture was suddenly overpowering but he resisted the temptation and went back to his throne before he could consider changing his mind.

Henry saw her take a deep breath she arduously exhaled a few seconds later. Then she turned gracefully and slowly walked towards the scaffold that was waiting for her. Dignified she knelt down in front of the device. The executioner stepped behind the Queen of France and pushed her upper body forward so that her neck came to rest on the wooden surface, showing off her beautiful ruby-studded necklace.  
Henry's heart stopped for half an eternity at this sight, only to turn wild as soon as it returned to duty.

"You're not going to wax sentimental in your old age, will you?", Diane's words made him jump up startled. "Of course not, what are you thinking?" He asked irritated, still wondering why the sight of Catherine on the scaffold went right through him, piercing marrow and bone. How many times had he wished for getting rid of her in the past? Why was there no feeling of triumph setting in - a few seconds before the deed would finally be done?

He would have loved to escape her accusing eyes that were still staring in his direction but he owed his wife at least this much respect to return her piercing gaze to the end.  
The position the executioner was forcing her into displayed the gentle curves of her breasts in an almost vulgar way to everyone present. Henry came close to storming over and covering up her bosom to protect her from greedy eyes.

He forced himself to stay calm and to muster the courage to beckon the hangman to start. The chunky man had already positioned himself over the scaffold, waiting for a signal from his king.


	2. Chapter 2

And while Henry was still wrestling with himself, the door of the great hall was suddenly jerked open and Nostradamus rushed towards them with wide strides.

"Put a stop to it!" The huge man shouted slightly out of breath even before he reached the gallery.

To his astonishment, Catherine turned her head and addressed the hangman with a commanding voice: "Could we just get over with this? I seem to have an appointment with my Maker and I would hate to be late."

Some people in the crowd laughed at her sassy remark but Henry didn't feel like laughing at all. In a balking gesture he raised his hand to signal the deathsman not to listen to the pert order his wife had tried to give him. He was the one in charge here, not his impertinent wife.

"Do tell, Nostradamus, what in the name of god makes you stop a public execution, the one of a queen in particular? A queen – as I have heard - who had kicked you out of her dungeon despite everything", Henry asked. He wasn't able to hide how much he loathed his wife's quack.

Secretly he was indeed interested in how the self-proclaimed seer wanted to prevent the decapitation of his queen. And if he was honest with himself, this forced reprieve mad him feel relieved to an unexpectedly great extent.

"If I do not stop you, you will commit murder of an innocent being," the bearded man explained and Henry heard a groan escape his wife's throat. She was throwing angry glares at her old friend. This unforeseen development seemed to be an entertaining one.  
"Catherine may be many things, but she is certainly not an innocent. Actually she's far from it", Henry proclaimed.  
"That's right, we should proceed with the execution," demanded Diane and reached for his hand to squeeze it.  
"I think we should listen to what Nostradamus has to say," said Mary, whose good heart would someday be her ruin.

"Your wife carries a child under her heart." The Seer's words elicited a silence full of suspence that was only disturbed when people started to murmur excitedly. Henry's gaze shot back and forth between Nostradamus and Catherine who had raised to an upright kneeling position in the meantime. She groaned once again in despair.  
"Is that true?" Henry demanded, indicating the hangman to pull Catherine back to her feet.  
"As true as I am standing here, Your Majesty," the bearded man asserted. Though it wasn't the seer's answer he was waiting for but rather the one of his silent and petulant wife.

"What's all the fuss about? A lie of this nature, outrageous and opprobrious, will not save her. And should she really be with child, that would only be a new evidence of her unfaithfulness."  
Diane's words made his head buzz.  
So the King of France got up and slowly walked toward his wife who tried to shun him but was hindered from doing so by the executioner's hand that came to rest on her shoulders.  
Henry's eyes wandered over her body, searching for a small sign - any sign - that would prove the words the seer had vocalized.

"Is it true, Catherine?" He asked in her direction but she made no move to either affirm or deny his question. She merely stared at the scafford. His attention was still focused on his wife while he addressed his next question at Nostadamus. "How far along is she?"  
"Seven, maybe eight weeks I would think, Your Highness." He noted that Catherine closed her eyes for the fraction of a second at this revelation. He did not have to be a calculating genius to know that their night of passion just under two months ago could have had consequences of this kind.

"Henry?" Diane who had risen as well came rushing towards him. "What do you care about the bastard of a stranger? Nostradamus is probably just trying to save his own flesh and blood", she accused.  
"A child, no matter how or by whom it may be conceived, is and remains an innocent creature", interfered Mary and stared angrily at the both of them.  
And suddenly they all started talking. Diane, Mary, Bash, his advisors and most members of his privy council.

Only Catherine remained as silent as a grave.

When Henry's head was about to explode, a sudden rage soared up so he stormed forward, grabbed Catherine by her shoulders and started shaking her violently.  
"You'd rather die than carry my child to term?" He snapped irritably, pushing her back so hard that she would have fallen if Bash had not caught her.  
"Father," Sebastian admonished him while Catherine cried out startled. Henry started to pace up and down instead while he ran his hands over his bald head in frustration.  
"I think it's just some kind of plot," Diane said and threw a hostile look at Catherine, who lifted her chin in defiance and stared back at her.

"I assure you, the queen is pregnant," Nostradamus asserted again.  
"There is only one way to find out. Go, send for a doctor!"  
Henry grabbed Catherine's wrists and dragged his wife behind him.   
"We'll be waiting for him in my chambers."


	3. Chapter 3

A reluctant Catherine stumbled behind her angry husband whose unyielding fist encircled her bound wrists viselike.  
"Henry," she cried out when she tripped over her long skirts once again. Only his strong grip prevented a fall. She tried to squirm free of his grip, but the previous effort to maintain her stoic facade while facing her own execution had deprived her of every ounce of energy she may have had left.  
Henry did not react to her protest, he just hurried on and pulled his unwilling wife along without slowing down his pace. Her shoulders and wrists already started to ache and she was seriously wondering if she should feel relieved or disappointed about the fact that she was still able to feel anything at all.

She silently cursed Nostradamus who had dared to ignore her prohibition to bring this subject up at all. This was a secret she had wanted to take to her grave.  
She knew that her old friend was simply trying to save her life, but his bona fide intervention would only prolong her suffering for a few months and impose the existence of an abandoned half-orphan upon another child. A newborn who would lose his mother as soon as it comes into this world. A world that could be cold, hard and cruel to outcast children without parental protection. Catherine herself had learned this bitter and painful lesson of experience very early in her own childhood.

No, this pregnancy wasn't her rescue - it was just a grisly respite to a fate she could not outrun. Catherine knew that this child would not change the predicament she found herself in. One member of her flying squads had just informed her of the arrival of a letter from the Pope wherein he refused Sebastian's legalization. This refusal forced Henry to take drastic measures for Bash to assume the throne one day and become future king. First and foremost he had to get rid of his current queen in order to marry the mother of his bastard son, thus to improve his chances of a subsequent legitimization. A request neither the church nor the pope himself would keep refusing after Henry wed Diane.  
And that would make her children the bone of contention and living targets as soon as the deathsman's axe chopped off her head. They would be subjected to the whims of their unpredictable father and used as political playthings for sure. Without their mother to protect them. This thought was by no means unfamiliar to her, but she still shuddered at the mere prospect of her children's bleak future.

All this because of Henry's morbid desire to bogart England. And because of the vagaries of a childlike queen who played at fate in an attempt to save Francis. She actually could not even blame Mary for acting out of her fears. After all she had made herself vulnerable and a target to the young Scot. Who played with fire got one's fingers burned.

The moment she had tried to take the Queen of Scotland's life, Catherine had known that she had forfeited her own existence.  
And if she was honest with herself she even felt a strange form of relief upon Mary's survival. Despite everything she liked the dark-haired young woman though she would never admit it to her in person.

What she didn't calculate in was her pregnancy. It was not until after poisoning Mary where she had inhaled some of the deadly steam as well when Nostradamus found out that she was expecting a babe. A child whose life she had unknowingly risked during her murderous attack. A child whose very existence left her deeply in despair and inwardly torn.

They eventually reached the King's private chambers and Catherine groaned in relief when Henry slowed down his pace. However he did not release his painful grip as he pushed open the door and shoved her into the room. A second later he slammed the door shut louder than necessary and jostled her forcefully on his bed. Only then did his fist release the grip he had on her wrists.

"So that was your plan all along, Catherine? A new scheme to outbluff your fatuitous husband", he growled in rage and looked down at her in high dudgeon. His stare caused the fine hair on her neck to raise in alarm.  
"What plan?" She straightened up as fast as she could in her tight corset and looked up at her towering husband. A mixture of irritation and anger on her own face.  
"The plan to save your skin. The plan to seduce me in hope to receive a child!" Henry virtually spat these words at her and loomed threateningly over her. But she ducked away under him and fled into another corner of his chambers.  
"Oh please!" She said once she had brought some distance between them and rolled her eyes at this abstruse accusation. "I seduced you?! Don't pervert the facts."

Within seconds he had circuited the bed and stalked her like a feline predator ready for attack.  
"Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that you lay with me more willingly than ever after what seemed like ages. Which is in your case and seen in a sober light rather the exception than the rule. So you'll surely understand my doubts about the fact that it was just this one night of passion that now allows you to keep your clever head on your shoulders. Damn woman, why do you always have to be do damn stubborn and complicated - even while dying?!"

Catherine inwardly groaned. Why did this man always had to assume that she wanted to harm, betray or patronize him in any way? Did he already forget that it was not her but Nostradamus who had brought her secret to light?  
But was it a good idea to point this out now? When she realized that she was choking on the unspoken words, she angrily screamed ath him against her better knowledge.  
"In case you haven't noticed, Henry: I do not want this child!" Her hands immediately went to her stomach and she sent a silent plea for forgiveness to heaven. She did not want to oppose her babe but the circumstances forced her to do so.

Henry, visibly shaken by her outburst, grabbed her by her arms and forced her to look at him.  
"You loath the idea of another child of mine that much that you would even prefer certain death? Don't you hold anything sacred anymore, woman?"  
"This outrageous accusation does not even deserve an answer. I would do everything for my children. Everything, Henry! But the mere existence of this baby does not change your intention to get rid of me. I'm not a fool. And I will not build my hope of survival on this little one. And what kind of uncertain life awaits this poor child? The same uncertain future his ill-fated brothers and sisters share! Oh how I wish that Nostradamus had kept his big mouth shut."

She was able to tell that her husband was following the same track of thought by the look on his face. Then she would already be dead by now. An idea that suddenly seemed to anger him as he reached for one of the candlesticks and flung it against the wall. Accompanied by a loud rumbling noise, hot wax ran down the wall and Catherine could do nothing but stare at the spot in bewilderment.

Before one of them could speak up and cause further verbal or real damage, there was a tentative knock at the door.  
"That has to be the doctor at last. Come in", the king snapped and a second later a short and wiry man entered the chambers. Although the doctor was surprised to see a very alive Queen, he showed no further emotion but respectfully bowed and asked Henry for the reason of his so urgently requested visit.

"Examine my wife," the King demanded and pointing at Catherine. When neither the doctor nor the Queen responded, Henry minimized the distance between them and pulled her out of her corner. A dangerous fire blazed in his eye, his face was set in grim determination. "I need to know if she's with child," he ordered and released her bound hands roughly.

"Of course, your Highness. Why don't you wait outside until I'm finished? A little privacy..."  
"That's not necessary," Henry brusquely interrupted the physician. "Your dress, Catherine."  
She merley stared at him. Then Catherine shook her head in disagreement.  
"Don't speak to me in that tone, Henry."  
"I'll speak to you in every tone that seems appropriate to me. And now - take off that damn dress!"

When she didn't make any move to obey, Henry roughly turned his wife around and started to tamper with her corset.  
But the lacing was not giving in to his violent handling and Henry's tearing effort solely suffocated Catherine. Out of breath she gasped and tried to shake off his rude hands but he mercilessly grabbed her small wrists with one of his strong hands and pressed her body against the wall.  
Startled by the brute force Henry displayed, her resistance weakened. She knew he was going to have his way and hopefully her submittance would speed up the degrading procedure she was forced to endure. And she urgently needed to get some fresh air in her lungs. So she stilled.

Dr. Berjain audibly cleared his throat but that didn't prevent Henry from pulling on Catherine's clothes until a tearing sound was heard.  
"Keep still," he growled and out of the corner of her eye she saw him yank out a dagger.  
Catherine's heart skipped a beat while she struggled to get oxygen back into her lungs. Every breath was an effort and she was seeing stars in front of her eyes.  
"Stay calm, Catherine", he said again, this time less harshly. "I'm cutting you out of it."  
Then she felt the blade sliding through the laces of her corset.  
And all of a sudden she could breath again.

Motionless and heavily breathing she allowed Henry to peel her out of her cut up corset first and then remove her wide skirts as well. She simply couldn't find the strength to defy his command.  
When the red fabric slipped from her body, the doctor lifted his hand to stop the king from further humiliating her by stripping off her chemise as well.  
"That's good enough, your Majesty. My Queen, would you please lie down so that I can start with the examination."

Catherine nodded numbly and let Henry guide her to his bed. For the next few minutes the Queen of France endured her examination in complete silence. Not only did she feel the doctor's scrutinizing eyes and hands on her, but Henry also critically monitored each probing touch on her body.

"No doubt, my King. Her Grace is pregnant", he confirmed after some time and Henry closed his eyes for a few seconds as if praying silently. When he opened them again, his eyes met hers.   
"So it's true."  
"But allow me to speak freely." The doctor waited briefly for Henry's approving nod before continuing. "Mylady needs rest. With all due respect - given her age and the complications of her last delivery I can only advise not to overdo it and to get sufficient bed rest." At the end of his words the physician looked at Henry who nodded thoughtfully.

"Don't you worry. I already have a place in mind where my Queen will have all the peace of this world. GUARDS!" His yelling caused the poor doctor to jump up startled. Meanwhile Catherine looked at her husband with suspicion in her eyes while he opened the doors and stuck his head out.

Not only two guards but also Sebastian and Diane de Portiers stormed into the room. A slight sense of oppression stated to spread in her.  
Embarrassed she reached for Henry's dressing gown he had thrown carelessly on the floor near his bed. Diane's disgustingly sweet and cheap perfume clung to the garment. And although the smell caused her nausea, she still wrapped the garment around her trembling body that would otherwise be exposed to the gaze of everyone present as she was only wearing a sheer underdress.

"Bring my wife back to her cell. I have to think about what I'm going to do with her." He indicated his guards to take Catherine away.  
She fixed the two men with an angry glare. But they didn't seem impressed by her stare as each of them merely grabbed one of her arms and started to lead her out of the room.

"Wait a second." Henry's words immediately stopped the guardsmen. The grip around her upper arms however did not loosen a millimeter. Henry circled the men and thoughtfully came to a halt in front of her. His eyes wandered down her body and remained on the spot where the gown had slipped open again and where her thin underdress was visible.

To her surprise Henry laid his right hand on the center of her still flat stomach, stroking the area where his baby was growing inside of her with a feathery touch. But just as suddenly as he had touched her, his caress died away. Instead he reached for the open seam of his lush red dressing gown and wrapped the fabric around her form, shielding her body. Satisfied with the result he tied the belt firmly around her midsection and regarded his work with a pleased nod.  
"Now you look decent. Take her", he mumbled, turning his back to his wife Catherine.

The guards started moving again and brought her back to the cell that seemed to have become her second home now.


	4. Chapter 4

Henry stared flabbergasted at the door through which his wife had been led away only seconds before.  
So Catherine was indeed pregnant. With his child. Another little Valois prince or princess was on it's way. This baby had the worst possible timing and it came so unexpectedly that the mere thought of its very existence made his head buzz.  
But what gave him a horrible headache was Catherine's self-destructive behavior. Because no matter how unexpected this pregnancy was, it was blessing and salvation at the same time.  
So why had she remained silent and made no attempt to save her life and that of their unborn baby?

"I take it that the execution is called off?" Bash's words tore Henry out of his thoughts and reminded him that the crowd in his throne room was still hoping for a bloody spectacle.  
"So it's true? She managed to pull her head out of the sling in the very last second? And you're still showing her mercy? Even after she cuckolded you once again? Henry, Catherine is..." His misstress got harshly cut off by the bellow of the King of France that made all those present flinch.  
"SHUT UP! Hold your tongue, Diane. I have to think. And I can not do that when my head explodes and your shrill voice threatens to split it to pieces!"

Dr. Berjain who was apparently feeling uncomfortable, took a cautious step towards Henry.  
"Your Majesty, maybe you want to..." But Henry also interrupted the doctor harshly.  
"No, leave!", he snapped and pointed at the door in authority. After a moment's hesitation the doctor bowed and opted for flight.  
Diane and Bash however still looked at him expectantly.

The king tapped with two fingers against his temples and closed his eyes. The hand that was placed on his arm a second later could only belong to Diane.  
"Henry, I'm worried about you," she said in a low voice wherefore he was grateful. "Catherine is a convicted adulteress and she's the only one who still stands between you, me and Sebastian as legitimate heir of your throne. It honors you to show her this kindness but please do not forget that the fruit of another man's passion is growing in her womb."

He opened his eyes in annoyance at this statement while the pain of a thousand knifeblades bore itself into his forehead.  
This thought had also crossed his mind on their way from the throne room to his chambers. But how should Catherine have been able to hide an affair from him in the last few weeks? She had either been imprisoned or accompanied by his guards round the clock. The few times she had escaped their watchful eyes, Catherine had either tried to murder the Scottish Queen or she had been searching for their kidnapped sons – out of her mind with worry. For the safe return of her two boys she had even given up her chance of escape to Italy. No, the Queen of France had had other worries in the last couple of weeks and Henry was pretty sure that she hadn't pursued extramarital frivolities. Besides, the timing was just too perfect.  
The child she carried under her heart was his, of that he was absolutely sure.

"I forbid you to continue making allegations of this kind."  
Diane inevitably stepped back at the harshness of his words, shaking her head in disbelief.  
"Why, Henry?"  
"Because it's his child," Sebastian answered his mother's question unasked.  
"Your child? You bedded her although you assured me that it's over and out with your wife? Why, Henry? Why did you cheat on me? With her of all people!"  
Aghast at this insolence, Henry merely stared at his mistress. Countless possible replies whirred through his anguished head, but Bash preempted him again.  
"How can a husband cheat on his mistress with his own wife?"  
Henry did not miss the unintentional hilarity of this situation and chuckled in amusement.

"Quite true. Sebastian, go ahead and announce to the mob that no head will roll today and let them drown their frustration in the countless barrels of wine Catherine has ordered as a matter of prudence. The way things are going there is the conception of another royal child to celebrate."  
His son nodded but made no move to leave the room to carry out his duties. "Do tell, son!" Henry demanded impatiently and began pacing up and down his premises. His eyes inevitably wandered to the torn up red dress that still lay accusatory in the middle of the room.  
"The expecting mother of said royal child is currently held captive in the tower without proper clothing and food."

Henry eyed his son who had so cleverly wrapped up the question he basically wanted to ask, though it remained unspoken but was hanging in the air regardless.  
"Okay, okay. Bring her something to eat and a dress," he agreed without stopping pacing up and down his chambers.  
"I will," his son replied and left the room.

Only Diane was left and she watched him with mortification and anger in her eyes.  
"Don't look at me so reproachfully. I am your King for heaven's sake and I don't have to explain myself. Certainly even less for a sweet night I've spent in the arms of my Queen."  
"A sweet night?" Diane's voice was shrill and increased the hammering in his head many times over.  
"I'll hear no more about it! Leave, I need peace and rest."  
With these words Henry dismissed his mistress. He couldn't and wouldn't deal with her pang of jealousy right now.

Meanwhile Sebastian hurried along the dark corridors. The occurrences of the day still irritated him. He hadn't seen this one coming – not even in his wildest dreams.  
Catherine de' Medici had escaped the scaffold by a hairbreadth today. And even if his father's wife evoked mixed feelings in him at the very most, he still did not want to see her dead.  
They have always had a complicated relationship because of his parentage but there had also been some unobserved moments in his childhood where Catherine had given her husband's bastard the same care she usually reseved only for her own children.

Especially one occasion had lingered in his memory.  
When he was only a seven-year-old, he had fallen from the top of one of the apple trees in the royal gardens. A tree on which he had climbed though Catherine had repeatedly admonished him not to do so while she played with his half siblings on the lawn a few yards away from him.  
Feeling invulnerable and not willing to listen to his father's wife, he of course had ignored her warnings.

A few minutes later he has fallen from the tree.  
This very day he still remembered the stabbing pain in his arm. And Catherine's soft hands that had gently checked his head and body for further injuries only seconds later. She was holding his good hand the whole time while he has been carried to Nostradamus at her bidding, screaming in pain and terror. Catherine had not left his side when the healer had first instilled a remedy against the pain and later on set his fractured arm.  
She had whispered reassuringly words into his ear and stroked his unruly hair out of his forehead almost lovingly. Catherine had dried his tears on that day while his mother who was dwelling in Paris with Henry probably did not even waste a thought on her left-behind son.

When the loud voices from inside the throne room reached him, Bash shook his head briefly in an attempt to shake off the memories from his past. For a moment he stopped in front of the closed doors to gather himself, then he motioned to the lord stewart to open them. As soon as Sebastian entered the hall, the attention of those present focused on him.  
With determined steps he approached Mary who had remained in the throne room after Henry's and Catherine's hasty departure to keep tabs on the overall absurd situation. He briefly nodded to her before turning to the waiting people.  
"Your king wants to announce that there will be no bloodshedding today. He would rather like to invite you to celebrate the imminent arrival of another royal child."  
Bash signaled at the servants to serve the wine.

It took the crowd a few minutes to calm down again. Then they started to drown their disappointment over the suspended execution in their wine. Meanwhile Mary took stand next to him.  
"So Catherine is indeed pregnant?", she wanted to know when she realized that no one was paying any attention to them.  
"Yes she is. My mother boils with rage, Henry has Catherine thrown back in the tower and I have the pleasure of cleaning up the whole mess."

Sighing in annoyance, he offered his arm to Mary and escorted the Queen of Scots out of the room. Together they headed to the chambers of the imprisoned Queen of France.  
"What will he do now?", Mary wanted to know. A question Bash had no answer for.  
"He probably doesn't even know himself. Our hands are tied right now. I will have her ladies pick out some new cloth. And additionally the kitchen is already preparing some food for Catherine. Maybe my father will come to his senses by tomorrow."  
"We should also bring her a blanket. Without a log fire it can be biting cold at night in the tower", Mary reminded him and he admired her good and compassionate heart.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days ago Catherine had made a serious attempt upon Mary's life and now the Queen of Scots had apparently forgiven the other woman. Bash knew that she felt responsible for Catherine's sentence, after all the two of them had set the ball rolling and informed Henry about his wife's betrayal after all these years.

But all that had only been done to save Francis from the unfortunate fate of a questionable prophecy. A prophecy in which the Queen of France in particular was a firm believer. And they all had accepted that the price of saving Francis' life was sacrificing Catherine. But today's revelation had spared her. At least for the moment.

When Sebastian entered the dungeon with Mary at his side, Catherine did not even look up. She remained sitting huddled in the small bay area, staring misty-eyed out of the narrow window. Her knees were raised while her arms clasped her legs tightly against her chest and for a moment Bash wondered if she was even noticing their presence.  
"What happened to her dress?" Mary whispered as her eyes glided horrified over the inadequately dressed Queen.  
"My father happened," Bash answered. His words prompted Catherine to look up at least.

"Do you want to personally convince yourself that the rumors are true, Mary? Yes, unfortunately they are. I'm sorry to disappoint you but your lovely soon-to-be father-in-law has decided to delay your vengeance in order to extend my suffering on the other hand. But I'm sure you and your little ladies in waiting will come up with another entertaining form of abasement to bridge the time gap. Do tell Mary, what's actually the reason behind your visit that brings you up here?"  
Unlike her dress, Catherine's tongue was obviously still intact and tartly as ever.

To Sebastian's surprise, Mary did not respond with an equally snappy answer. She remained calm and slowly passed through the bleak cell and stopped just in front of the Queen of France.  
"The concern for your unborn child brings me here, Catherine." This statement caused the prisoner to stand up and - despite her lightly clad state - Catherine planted herself in front of the Scotchwoman with regal pride shown on her pale face.  
"Oh dear Lord! Save your pity for the weak", she hissed and began to restlessly walk up and down the cell.  
"You should not offend those few who are still well-disposed towards you." As if to reenforce her goodwill, Mary called in the servants who brought in fresh clothes, a blanket and plenty of food.

Catherine looked perplexed from Mary to Bash when one of the kitchen girls made an unskillful curtsey and presented her a plate with delicious delicacies. The unmistakable smell of some spicy cheese and fresh bread rose to Bash's nose. Obviously to his father's wife's nose as well, because Catherine pressed her hands over her mouth all of a sudden and started making choking noises.

Faster than Sebastian thought possible, the Queen spun around, sank to her knees in front of the chamber pot and vomited the sparse contents of her stomach right into it.  
"For God's sake, take the darn food out of here," she commanded with a brittle voice a while later before she began to choke again. She was visibly shaken and pale as a ghost.  
Mary was the first to react and shooed the kitchen maid out of the cell. Then she dropped to her knees beside a shaking Catherine and stroked the older woman's back in a reassuring gesture.

But the Italian evaded her touch and came back to her feet, heavily breathing and groaning softly. Then she slowly backed away into her recess.  
Mary however didn't seem discouraged and reached for the water jar. She filled a goblet and brought it to Catherine.  
"How about a mild broth and a slice of bread?" Reluctantly the pregnant woman shook her head, but at least she took the cup Mary offered her.  
"No, no food," she refused right away after emptying the water in one gulp. "I can not keep any food down," she admitted after a moment's hesitation and her words made Bash bandy a worried look with Mary.

"I'm sure Nostradamus has some remedy that may help. I'll go and fetch him", Bash offered, leaving Catherine in Mary's capable hands.  
"Take care of that," Mary said looking at one of the servants and pointed at the chamber pot. "And prepare some broth. As soon as her Majesty feels better, I want her to eat something."  
With a determined expression on her face, Mary walked over to the low and uncomfortable-looking cot. She wrinkled her nose and tested the state of the thin mattress. The straw smelled of mold and was flattened.

"Burn this mattress and bring a new one," she demanded and waved at the girl that stood indecisive in the middle of the cell and held a new wardrobe for Catherine in her hands.  
"Put the clothes over there and get me a bowl of water."  
Catherine suspiciously eyed the frezy of activity around her from some distance without interfering.

Mary studied the older woman unobtrusively. The Queen of France was unnaturally pale and looked exhausted. She even thought she saw Catherine shiver. So, as soon as they were alone, Mary approached her once again.  
"I'll help you get dressed." She met Catherine's irritated look with a slight smile. "Do not worry, there is no one who can see you in all your glory except me," Mary assured her, reminding both of them of Catherine's words just before she attempted murder and sealed her own fate.  
Mary shivered at the thought that Catherine had already been pregnant at that time and had also inhaled the poisonous steam. Mary could only hope that the baby had not been harmed.

"I may just as well give in," the older woman shrugged, inspecting the simple but comfortable dress her lady had chosen for her.  
"No corset," Mary said succinctly, stepped behind Catherine and took off Henry's dressing gown. Involuntarily she glanced over Catherine's body that showed no sign of pregnancy yet. If anything, the captivity had rather caused her to lose some weight.  
In complete silence one woman helped the other getting dressed. And though the captive Queen tried not to show her exhaustion all too obviously, Mary clearly saw the tribute Catherine now had to pay. The last stressful weeks and especially today had stretched Catherine's vitality to the limit.

A bit later not only the servants returned with a new, much thicker and freshly made mattress, also Nostradamus entered the cell shortly followed by Bash.  
Mary watched in fascination as the big man gently shoved his mistress to the cot and then dropped to his knees in front of her.  
"Forgive me my intervention against your strict order, my Queen. But I could not let you and your child die. Sebastian told me that you're not feeling well?" The gentleness of his words amazed all people in the room.

"I guess it can't be helped now, old friend. The nausea is even worse than with the twins."  
The fact that Catherine did not even have the energy to rebuke her seer's behavior said much more about her worn out condition than her words. Nostradamus simply nodded.  
"Then take this. It worked quite well when you were pregnant with the twins. I even improved the mixture meanwhile."  
The small red bottle the bearded man opened, gave off a bitter odor. Without further discussion Catherine grabbed it and emptied the contents with a disgusted expression on her face. Her expression would have been funny if the overall situation weren't so damn dramatic.

"This is not an appropriate arrangement for a pregnant woman," Nostradamus said as if he had read Mary's mind. "Even less for a Queen in poor health."  
"This arrangement is hopefully only temporary." At least that's what Mary hoped.

It took the remedy a good half hour before it took full effect. And even though Catherine only ate a bowl of soup because Mary gentle coaxed her to do so, she was now well enough to keep her food.  
The general bad condition of her nemesis disturbed Mary. Catherine desperately needed to rest, otherwise she risked losing both the baby and her own life.

When Mary left the cell with Bash and the seer, she instructed the bearded man to prepare more remedies against the nausea. She also decided to talk to Henry first thing in the morning to get him to indulge.


	6. Chapter 6

Diane de Portiers was seething with rage while she hurried down the corridors of the castle. Oh, how much she hated that awful Medici witch, a constant thorn in Diane's flesh since her goddamn arrival to France more than two decades ago.  
She had been so close of finally getting rid of Henry's wife for good, but his hyperactive libido got in their way once again.

There was absolutely no doubt in her that this fateful sexual encounter has been solely initiated by Henry. She couldn't even imagine his cold, prudish and unapproachable wife being capable of seducing her husband. The Queen of France was only interested in affairs of state, not sexual affairs.

Catherine only tolerated lying with Henry to conceive heirs since he invited his long-time mistress back to court, the little bitch was not even capable of pleasing her own husband. Not anymore. Diane had gone to great lengths to make sure of that.

Because women like Catherine - feisty, sturdy and battered by life – couldn't tolerate any rivals.

It took Diane one single night many many years ago to win back her former lover and heir to the throne of France. At a time when Henry simply tried to escape his still childless wife's despair and terror, he didn't even realize that he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of ever mending ties with his angry and deeply hurt wife. He had passed up the chance of a happy marriage.

And meanwhile Diane had done everything in her power to keep his mind from developing any thoughts of this kind. She had willingly given him not only her very eager and welcoming body but also the submission his proud wife was not willing to grant him. Diane had blindly entrusted herself to his guidance, neither doubted his deeds nor his words. In the beginning she hadn't complained about anything at all and always let him have his way.  
In general she had done all things Catherine de' Medici was not willing or able to offer him. She had even given him a son sooner than the Florentine merchant's daughter.

And over time she had learned how to interpret Henry's quick changing moods. She knew when talking up was unwise and she could tell how close to a dangerous outburst he was just by the slightest emotion displayed on his handsome face.  
Responsible for most of these outbreaks was normally his dire wife. The only creature in this world that wouldn't submit to his dominance, no matter how rough he treated her. His threats simply ricocheted.

But in the end it was Diane who had to pay for the matrimonial disputes of the royal couple. For her passive, almost subservient behavior fueled his rage and it was advisable to avoid him in such a condition, though she did not always succeed. Diane knew that he lusted after his wife in these moments and his desire to bring her into subjection was clearly written all over his grim face whenever he eyeballed his Medici wife.  
It was an expression that frighten Diane as much as it aroused her. She could not remember Henry ever looking at her that special way.

But to her delight the monarchs had grown apart over the years.

And then there were women or rather girls like little Kenna. These naive brats did not pose any danger to Diane. Because just as fast as Henry became inflamed with passion for them, his passion died away.

With his wife however, things were different since Catherine was a constant in his life. One he could not ignore nor escape from and her mere presence harbored the danger of long lost feelings resurfacing that had once bound him to his Italian wife. A danger that Diane had never underestimated. The fact that there was still an indefinable attraction between them has been proved most impressively by the queen's unexpected pregnancy. Another testimony of this strange love-hate relationship they still shared.

He might be after his Medici wife's blood from time to time but as often as he cursed her, Henry also desired Catherine.  
"Damn it, Henry!" Diane said indignantly while approaching the Queen's private chambers.  
She had to get rid of her rival. Once and for all.

Henry's mistress hoped that Catherine's secret stock of various kinds of poison would get handy. Even though Henry had confiscated and destroyed most of her vials and tinctures, Diane was pretty sure that his ingenious wife had also chosen less obvious hiding places for some of her more deadly bottles. She just had to find them.  
And she was angry with herself because Catherine had given her a poison, an extremely effective one, and she seemed to have lost it somehow.

First Diane warily looked around before slipping unnoticed into Catherine's chambers and started her search.  
A small, beautifully adorned casket sitting on the dressing table caught her attention. Out of curiosity she opened the lid and discovered a strange little ball. Diane smelled at it skeptically but was not brave enough to touch the content. She closed the box indecisively and continued searching. But she couldn't find anything else.

In the end she returned to the vanity and inspected the box once again. Without further ado she scraped off a little piece with a brush, mingled the grayish mass with a drop of water and some millet grains and offered the mixture to the yellow canary that fluttered excitedly in it's cage as soon as she approached it.  
Hungrily the animal lunged at the food while Diane waited for something to happen with bated breath.

And indeed, after just two minutes the bird lost it's grip on the thin branch and plummeted down to the cage's bottom. With a wildly pounding heart she opened the cage door and nudged the motionless little body. But it showed no reaction whatsoever. The animal's little heart had stopped beating.

A perfidious smile played on her lips when Diane closed the box.  
"Just Perfect," she whispered more than satisfied with the result.

"Mother?" Sebastian's voice coming from the entrance to the room caused the dark-haired woman to flinch in alarm. Quickly she hid the box with it's deadly contents in her skirt pocket.  
"Bash, for heaven's sake son. You scared me," she said, trying not to sound too guilty.  
"What are you doing here?" He asked straightforward and stepped towards her into the darkened room. There was a mixture of curiosity and mistrust in his eyes.  
"Oh, it's pretty silly actually. But since Catherine is in the tower, I could no longer restrain my curiosity and had to take a look around. What brings you here?"  
"You just wanted to take a look around?" Bash asked, looking anything but convinced. He did not even answer her question about the reason for his presence in the Queens chambers. Diane sighed and ran her hand through her long dark hair.

"Truth be told, I was searching for something."  
She chose some half-truth. If she wanted to eventually eliminate Catherine, she needed an ally. And who would be more suitable than the young man who had been treated so badly by his father's wife for his whole life? After all, she did not only stand in Diane's way, she also endangered her boy's future.  
"But obviously you didn't find what you were looking for. What exactly is it that you hope to find here?" Sebastian still sounded skeptical. His blue, soulful eyes followed her every single movement.  
"Proof, Sebastian", she lied to test his sentiments.  
"Proof? What kind of proof? For her pregnancy? It has already been confirmed by a doctor. If you count in Nostadamus it has actually been confirmed twice."  
Diane placatory raised her hand.

"No, for anew adulterousness. I just can not believe that the two of them ... after so many years? And even though, that alone proves how calculating and manipulative Catherine de' Medici truly is. Why else would she have intercourse with Henry? Just the thought ... ", she was raging against her intention. Bash shook his head.  
"Why thank you. I do not even want to imagine their marital or any other activities my father may entertain. But what kind of proof do you expect to find here? And why? Catherine is already imprisoned and it does not look like this pregnancy is improving their shattered relationship. So what exactly are you hoping for?"  
"My dear son, do I have to remind you that her mere existence endangers your future reign? Likewise her child and all his siblings. For a woman who took ten years to conceive for the first time she seems to be surprisingly fertile. However, in light of recent events, I seriously wonder how many cuckoos she brought into his nest?"

"I hope I'm just misinterpreting your words and you're not seriously considering harming Catherine or my younger siblings." Her son's outrage was genuine, there was no doubt about that.  
"Half-siblings, Sebastian. You have been nothing more than the King's bastard all your life. I'm sure nobody reminded you more often of that fact than Catherine de' Medici. And anyway, where does this sudden concern about your father's wife come from? If she had not been impregnated, the worms would already be feasting on her dead body! Her fate has already been sealed.  
And even if you do not like to hear this: the sole existence of her children poses an acute threat to your future reign. Nobody casts off the line of succession with impunity, not even a King. There will be voices that one of the Valois princes should mount that throne, not his former bastard son. You must never forget that."  
"It sounds like you've been giving this subject quite some thought," her son said with a dangerous calmness in his voice that warned Diane to be on alert.

"Of course did Henry and I have to think about our future. He thinks the banishment of Catherine's brood to Italy or Spain once she's gone will be the best solution."  
"But you have another idea, don't you?", The coldness that hit her at Sebastian's reply made the King's mistress shiver.  
"I just want what's best for my child," she said vehemently without acknowledging the accusation that still stood between them.  
"I never thought I would have that kind of talk with you, mother, but I'm warning you. Henry may seek Catherine's life for adultery but her children are innocent and I will not tolerate anybody harming a single hair on their heads, even less threatening their very life's. And I'm not saying this as a possible future King of France, but as their older brother."

"Your prejudice hurts me, son." Likewise Bash's naivety. Diane now knew that she would neither find a co-conspirator nor an accomplice in Sebastian. The boy had a heart of gold that was too soft and too unselfish. He would probably just stand idly by in case his half-siblings decide to rise up against him at some point in the near or distant future. Trying to claim what they though was theirs, at least from their perspective.  
"The bloodlust in your eyes betrays you."

Despite her effort to keep her cool, she let herself be carried away to an uncontrolled outburst.  
"No one can blame me for wanting to see the Medici witch dead and gone!"  
"You will not harm Catherine either!" The determination of his words and his ominous look made Diane swallow hard. Knowing full well that any other word would be too much, Diane renounced another reply. But that did not satisfy Bash.  
"I want you to promise neither to harm Catherine nor her children." Sebastian grabbed her shoulders and squeezed her.

His mother nodded.  
"All right, son. I'm not going to lay a finger on Catherine or her brood. Are you satisfied?" She hissed and Bash's hands brushed away from her shoulders.  
"For the time being, yes. I'm holding you to that."

Bash made a calm and collected impression when he turned on his heels and left his mother without another word. But his very insides were boiling with rage. In his hurry he almost collided with Lady Kenna who stared after him in shock.

Only then the young woman heard a female voice coming out of the Queen's chambers that was definitely not the Queen herself. Curiously she stepped closer to the door Bash had left open in his haste.  
"Do not worry, my darling, I will not lay any finger on Catherine. She will soon depart this life voluntarily and on her own. I will make sure of that."

And while Kenna stood frozen and in utter shock in front of the private rooms of the Queen of France, the unmistakable sound of approaching steps grew louder. The dark-haired girl quickly run to one of the niches. Frightened she held her breath and pressed her back against the cold stones.  
A few seconds later Diane de Portiers passed her, unaware that someone had overheard her murderous promise.


	7. Chapter 7

When the first rays of sunlight bathed the royal chambers into a soft light, Henry Valois groaned in distress and pulled the covers over his head to shield his sensitive eyes from the brightness. His night had been anything but restful and the raging headache that had nearly driven him to insanity the day before made it's continuing presence known with a slight but constant throbbing at his temples. Sleep had lessened the vehemence of the pain but knowing what kind of duties and obligations awaited him today did dispossess his hope of oncoming relief.  
Several minutes passed wherein he felt sorry for himself and hoped for a miraculous healing, then Henry resigned and arose. Frowning and bad-tempered he called for his valet who helped him getting ready for the day.

Shortly thereafter the King of France stepped out of his chambers and almost collided with Mary, who had obviously been in search for him.  
"Excuse me but it is important I speak with you," she addressed him immediately.  
"That'll have to wait till after breakfast," Henry decided grudgingly and intened to push past Mary. But to his surprise she put her hand on his arm to stop him from getting on his way.  
"I would not bother you at this early hour and before breakfast wouldn't it be a matter of extreme urgency."  
"Is this about your upcoming marriage? Mary, I would like to speed things up for you and Sebastian but right now my hands are tied. And yesterday's events did not help at..."  
"No, it's not about my marriage. It's about..." Henry who wasn't used of being interrupted by anyone, started to get annoyed by the younger woman's behaviour. He freed his arm from her grip and shook his head.

"No matter what it is - it has to wait." He was not willing to continue this conversation on an empty stomach. No wonder he was being plagued by attacks of nasty headache lately. Mary, Diane, Catherine - they all were driving him crazy.  
"Henry, it really is crucial. I..."  
"Have you had breakfast yet, Mary?" The King of France did not wait for an answer but already purposefully hurried towards the dining hall.  
"No but..."  
"Then join me and later on you may inform me in great detail about whatever bothers you right now. After breakfast!"

Meanwhile in the tower

Just like Henry, his wife Catherine de' Medici did hardly find any rest that night. Her thoughts had constantly circled around the events of the previous day. She had racked her brain over the question if her survival was sheer luck or tragic misfortune.  
In the wee hours of the morning she came to the realization that she still didn't know how to answer this question.  
For some inexplicable reason Mary and Sebastian seemed to be standing by her side – at least for now. Heaven only knew how long this newly developed sympathy would last.

While Nostradamus's concoction now held the nausea at bay that had been a constant companion since the very first weeks of this unexpected pregnancy, the remedy could not mitigate Catherine's feeling of generally being unwell. Dizziness spells, fatigue, terrible back pain and some circulatory problems continued to plague her.  
She sat down on her bunk when silver stars started to dance in front of her eyes once again and groaned in distress. She hated feeling weak and not being in control of her body.

When Catherine opened her eyes again, she was looking straight into the eyes of one of her eldest enemies and Henry's eternal lover, Diane de Portiers.  
"Diane, just when I thought my day could not get any worse, you decide to honor me with your presence." She saw absolutely no reason to hide her aversion for the other woman. What was there to lose?  
"You may draw in your claws. I came to make you an offer, "Diane explained without preamble and although she knew it wasn't a wise decision given her previous dizzy spell, Catherine rose to meet her visitor on an equal footing nonetheless.  
"What is it you think you could offer me?" She eyed Diane suspiciously.  
"Maybe a way out, Catherine?" The French Queen didn't like the sardonic expression on the other woman's face at all.

"Let's be honest with each other, shall we?! The proclamation of your pregnancy may have delayed your expectable fate for a few month but you still can only buy some limited time. And did you ever consider the things that still could happen? I've heard that you are not feeling well. This baby might kill you just as well as the hangman's ax will do. Childbirth alone entails countless dangers and if I remember correctly, your last delivery was pure agony. Didn't you almost bleed to death and hadn't the physician warned you that another pregnancy could seal your fate? And even if you should survive the delivery - contrary to all expectations - there is still this unfinished death sentence hovering over your head. And no one is going to save you as Henry grew tired of you once and for all - just like me."

Catherine angrily minimized the distance between them until her nose almost touched Diane's.  
"Why not being frank and say what you have to say out in the open, Diane?" She growled hostile.  
"Very well. I admit I can not guess what's going on in your black heart and evil mind, nor am I able to tell whether the drama Nostradamus caused on behalf of your pregnancy and your uncontested acceptance of your death sentence was genuine or just one of your infamous schemes to pull Henry on your side. But I certainly do know that only your death will give the King's first-born what is rightfully his."  
"And here I thought you were going to be honest. Sebastian and whatever you think shall be his is only secondary for you. What you desire is the official place at the side of the King of France. The titel of a Queen. You want to satisfy your own lust for power and you certainly want the one thing you always craved and wanted to call yours in all these years. Henry."  
The dizziness had returned, but Catherine stoically defied her rival with her head held high and her chin jut forward in defiance, poisonous arrows darting out of her brown eyes.

"Oh, you think you're so smart! It's not the place at Henry's side that I crave, it's your goddamn place! Yes, I love Henry and I love Sebastian, but it is you whom I hate with all my heart and the day when you will finally draw your last breath will not only give me satisfaction, it will be a day of true joy!"  
The insane, hate-drenched expression in Diane's eyes caused the Queen of France to slowly walk around the other woman despite her discomfort.  
"Like so many others you need to restrain your hatred and your thirst for revenge," she said succinctly when she was facing Diane once again, forcing a smile on her face that didn't feel real. Then she pointedly stroked her stomach to show Diane that Henry's unwelcomed gift was currently protecting her.

Diane couldn't hide how much Catherine's pregnancy and the truth related to her blessed condition was killing her. For not only did it mean that Henry had bedded his wife once again but also that as opposed to his mistressed and whores, he still did forgo any protection against a pregnancy while sleeping with his wife.  
This fact was anathema to the other woman. A woman who had warmed Henry's bed longer than Catherine herself and in spite of everything had only given birth to one single child.  
And that happened at a time when it was highly questionable if she - his rightful wife - could ever give him his badly needed heirs. Had Henry tried to secure his legacy through Diane?

Of course, his methods of protection occasionally failed, the three bastards she knew of were proof enough, but it was a proven fact that Diane, whom he allegedly loved so much, only bore him one son.  
For shortly thereafter Catherine had not only given him a Dauphin but also numerous princes and princesses, whereas Diane's womb had remained emty.

Involuntarily the Queen of France wondered how her rival would react to the fact that this child had been conceived in an act of genuine fervour and fiery passion? In a night where Henry's hands had been tender, his words heavy with pent-up emotions and his lips hot and all-consuming. And no matter how quickly his attitude towards her had changed, this baby was the result of passionate love-making.

"Maybe not. Tell me, Catherine, you do know the contents of this pretty little box, don't you?"  
Catherine indeed recognized the box and it's deadly content immediately and swallowed hard.

Meanwhile in the dining hall of the royal family

Henry looked over the rim of his coffee mug to the other side of the table where Mary - Queen of Scots – sat. She was throwing lurking glares at him all along. Sighing, he grabbed one more slice of roasted bread and started sawing at the italien salami with his dagger.  
"Do tell, before you stare holes in my head. What is so urgent that it can not wait until I have finished my breakfast?" He said defeated and placed three thick slices on his golden-brown bread.  
"I want to talk to you about your wife, about Catherine." At this revelation Henry rolled his eyes and bit off a large piece of bread.  
"I know, I know, you're looking for revenge. But you must understand that I cannot simply proceed with executing her since she is pregnant with my child."  
"For God's sake, you missunderstood what I'm trying to say!"  
"If so, what's all the fuss about?" He asked in irritation and cut off another piece of salami. Then he skewered it with his dagger point and took a big bite off of it.

"Do you honestly think that a cold, sparse cell without any comfort whatsoever is an appropriate place for a pregnant Queen?" Mary, who had already pushed her plate aside, leaned forward to look at him intently.  
"It's the right place for a convicted adulteress, whether pregnant or not." He should have known that Catherine would try to intrigue her way ouf of her captivity. Though it surprised him how quickly she had won over the Scottish Queen and turned her into her tool.  
"Even if her state of health is worrisome?"

"Don't let yourself be fooled by her outstanding talent as an actor. Catherine is a true master of deception. My wife has the health of an ox."  
With a dismissive gesture he showed Mary that the matter was closed. He would not jump to action just because Catherine was playing her little game with the Queen of Scots.  
She should have thought about the consequences of her adultery before betraying him with his best friend of all things. A few more days in the dungeon would certainly not hurt, maybe the imprisonment would teach his wife some humbleness.

"In this case you're wrong, Henry. Your wife is struggling with health issues and the stress of the last few days is not conducive to her well-being in principle."  
To his surprise Mary rose and starred at him across the table.

"Catherine brought that upon herself. She has to bear the consequences for her own actions like any of us. Both as a wife as well as a Queen. Haven't you learned to stay out of things that aren't your concern? I know damn well how to deal with my mulish wife. Or are you questioning my decisions as King of France?" Henry shouted angrily but the young Queen didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated by his tirade.

"No, of course not. But I urge you to convince yourself of your wife's status of health if you don't believe my words. There is this one thing you two definitely have in common. You are both stubborn as a mule and equally lead astray by your pride - even if it leads you to a dead end. If you do not want to lose your wife along with your unborn child, you should go and visit her today."  
All of a sudden Henry jumped up as well and jabbed his dagger on the table. Mary flinched.  
"Well, I'll visit her this afternoon to personally judge her condition. Even if only to be able to rub into your face how foolish you were to have fallen for Catherine and her schemes."

Meanwhile in the tower

"And what is it you expect me to do now? Shall I just swallow the poison and do the hangman's job myself for your sake?" Catherine asked sharp-tongued, assessing her visitor with watchful eyes.  
"Good guess!" Diane's mouth turned into a dangerous smile when she first looked at the Queen and then at the box she was still holding in her hand.  
"Why should I do you and Henry this particular favor?"

Catherine was no stranger to serious considerations about suicide. After all she had received the deadly poison from her relatives that Diane was presenting her for exactly this very same reason. Not out of pity but to spare the Medicis the disgrace of her failure.  
And she would be lying if she told she hadn't thought about a possible scenario where she voluntarily departed from this life. In the end she had opted for an extended suicide. She had been convinced that the murder of Mary would at least save her eldest son, even if she had sealed her own death sentence by that. But the poisonous steam had neither killed Mary nor herself.

"You may be unscrupulous, devilish and unquestionably dangerous, but even a Catherine de' Medici has a weakness. Her children."  
At these words the Monarch's hand shot up and she slapped Diane de Portiers with a resounding noise in her face.  
"How dare you threatening me?!", Catherine shouted angrily and was wrestled down to the cold floor of the cell a second later by her rival.  
"Let's see how you're going to stop me." Hissed the dark-haired woman and pulled Catherine's head back by tearing on her hair violently. "You're going to die. One way or another. Maybe by giving birth, maybe even before. And if you shall survive the delivery, be assured that the executioner will be eagerly waiting to chop off your foul head of your body. If all else fails I'll strangle you with my very own hands." To express the meaining of her words, Diane's hands wrapped around Catherine's neck and started to squeeze the air out of the Queen of France. When she gasped for breath the pressure decreased as suddenly as it has increased.

"And the second you'll take your last breath I will see to it that your beloved children will follow their mother one by one. The journey into the distance is terribly dangerous, especially for small children."  
"You will not harm any of my children..." Catherine's growling warning was interrupted brusquely when Diane pressed her more firmly to the ground and squeezed her neck once again.  
"Pardon? I don't think so. Because as a matter of fact, sweet little Margot is not alone right now..."

As if stung by an adder Catherine suddenly leaped up and struggled with blind rage to free herself.  
"NO! You wouldn't dare! They are also Henrys children", she hissed and punched Diane against her chin. The mistress screamed in pain and once again darted for Henry's wife. Only when Diane forcefully pressed her knee against Catherine's lower abdomen, the pregnant woman let her resistance die.  
"Bitch, are you ready to listen to what I have to offer you or should I increase the pressure?" The demonic look on Diane's face was more like a sardonic grimace than a smile.  
"So tell me what you have to say," Catherine spat hatefully at the dark-haired woman, but in fear for her unborn child she gave up her bodily fight.

Instead of giving her a direct answer, Diane reached behind them and showed Catherine the box with the poisonous ball. The pressure on her lower abdomen didn't diminish for even a millisecond.  
"Why should I if I am doomed to death anyway?"  
"Because you can save the lifes of your dearly beloved brood, Catherine. Die now - voluntarily and on your own hand and I promise that only exile and not death will await your children, if none of them ever crosses French border again."  
"An empty threat followed by an equally empty promise! Or how are you going to guarantee the unscathed departure of my children to Spain?" The pressure on her stomach increased at that question.  
"I can't. You'll have no guarantee and I will not force you to swallow that poison."

Quite unexpectedly Diane straightened and released the Queen of France. Seeming unfazed she smoothed her skirts and paid no attention to Catherine who was still lying on the floor.  
"Poor little Margot," she murmured softly, looking in mock fascination at the pretty box in her hand. "Obviously her mother doesn't love her as much as she always pretends. How unfortunate." Shrugging, the mistress gathered her skirts and walked slowly towards the door of the dungeon.

There had been many moments in Catherine's life where death would have been mercy, but until now she had always been able to cheat death. Even the unspeakable horror she had experience in Florence hadn't taken her will of life. She did not want to die today, but there was more at stake than her own meaningless life.

"Wait," Catherine's voice broke the silence while she rose in dignity despite her disheveled state and imperiously gestured for Diane to hand her the poison.


	8. Chapter 8

Meanwhile in the dining hall of the royal family

Henry, who had lost his appetite, signaled the staff to clear the table of the dishes. He slowly walked towards one of the oriel windows and looked out at the courtyard where some of the servants' younger children were romping around blithely. Two little boys imitaded a sword fight with thin branches while several girls played tag, running around laughing and screaming, one of them even tearing the fighting boys off their feet in her eagerness to escape.

Involuntarily he wondered how much time had passed since the last time he had played with his own children, let alone spent quality time with them? Way too much if he couldn't even remember.  
A few months ago he had unexpectedly shown up in the children's playroom and his youngest daughter had hidden behind Catherine's skirts. Not out of shyness but because he was a complete stranger to this little one. She had actually been afraid of him.  
The look his wife had cast him this moment had been murderous. All it took was this look, no accusing words were necessary to show him quite plainly what kind of a lousy father figure the King of France was.

Had anyone actually informed his children that their beloved mother had not been executed and was very much alive? And in a not-too-distant future he would become a father once again.

"God help us all," he mumbled absorbed in thought about the frustrating situation they found themselves in and how helpless he felt about it.  
"Before you ask the Lord for help, maybe you should consider trying to seek dialogue with your wife."  
Henry hadn't even noticed Mary taking position next to him, looking out at the playing children as well.

The King slowly turned his head and studied the young woman for a short moment who was wearing a form fitting black dress, adorned with plenty of lace and golden borders, before he turned his attention back to the courtyard.  
"You know Catherine. There's no easy way of just seeking dialogue with her. You either argue with her or you scream", he admitted with resignation in his voice.  
"That's because both you and your wife are of highly spirited character. But I do believe that no matter how often you try to feign ignorance, in the end both of you still care for each other."

When Henry turned his head this time, Mary's attention was already focused on him. A small, confident smile lay on her lips.  
"Just go for it, give it a try. If only for the sake of the smallest Valois who will soon see the light of day."  
"So young and so wise," Henry mumbled. His words sounded slightly mocking but nonetheless he was serious about it.  
"I went through Catherine de' Medici's school of hard knocks," she admitted with a wink whereupon Henry started to laugh.  
"Didn't we all?!"

simultaneous they turned their attention back to the cheerful activities in the courtyard and they silently watched the playing children, both their thoughts running freely.

"Mary? Henry! I ... I need to ... well I do not know if I got it right, but I think so and ..."  
Both Henry and Mary jerked around at Kenna's unannounced entrance.  
"Is there any point in this stammering that you want to come to, Kenna?" Impatiently the King of France approached the young woman, who nervously played with the tips of her fingers and looked between her mistress and her lover with uncertainty.  
"Maybe it's not that important." Her answer sounded more like a question. Mary slowly approached her lady in waiting.  
"Kenna, what is this all about?" She pursued, gently pulling Kenna aside by the sleeve of her green dress. "You know you can tell me. It must be important enough to come and search for us. Or do you want to talk to me in private? " The Queen of Scots had whispered her last question very quietly but Henry didn't miss it nonetheless.  
"Then I'll leave you two alone. I have more important things to do." He proclaimed and made a move to leave the dining room.

To his surprise however, Kenna stopped him by reaching out for his arm and looking up at him with big wide eyes.  
"I'm here because of Diane." That revelation made Henry roll his eyes in annoyance. When would the girl learn how to control her jealousy?  
"I have no time for your childish insecurities."  
"It's not about me, it concerns Catherine." That statement stopped him dead in his tracks.  
"Diane and Catherine? What about them? They hate each other, "he replied, clearly confused.  
"Yes, quite obviously. But do you think Diane could hate your wife that much that she wants to get rid of her for good?" That question caught Henry by surprise. Why would Diane want to do such a thing now of all times?  
"How did you come to this conclusion?" He growled between his teeth to get to the bottom of the matter. Apparently an intrigue was taking place right under his nose but he had no idea which women was actually involved and why. And what role did Kenna play in this abstruse game?

"Diane has exclaimed a serious threat against your wife when she thought no one could hear her."  
Mary looked shocked at her lady in waiting who nodded in all earnest.  
"Diane threatened Catherine? Why the hell should she do that?" Henry asked dumbfounded.  
"This isn't actually that much of a stretch. After all, it's only your current wife who stands in the way of your future wife's plans." Mary vocalise a thought he didn't want to admit and that gave him a headache.  
"But Catherine is locked up in the tower and let's be honest... my wife is not easily threatened by anyone, especially not by Diane."  
"It wasn't necessarily a thread like that. It was more a ... plan. Diane apparently wants to get your wife to end her own life." Kenna stepped from one foot to the other in an uneasy way as if she regretted her decision to share her knowledge with them.

"We will see. GUARDS!" The king yelled and seconds later the doors were torn open and four of his alarmed guards rushed into the dining room. "Find Diane and bring her here. MOVE", he ordered in a commanding voice.  
The men immediately stormed off while Henry began to pace up and down in the hall, his posture tense and nervous. Meanwhile Mary asked Kenna about the details of said incident.  
At the mention of Bash, the king also sent for his illegitimate son to question him as well. Then he rubbed his hands over his shaved head in frustration.

"Your Majesty, your son is expected back later this afternoon, he and his men have left early in order to curb the unrest in the surrounding villages," reported a guardsman shortly thereafter. Henry nodded absently. He himself had given this order days ago.  
"Send him to me as soon as he returns," he said nonetheless, continuing his restless walk.

It took another few minutes for a second guard to enter the dining hall.  
"Lady Diane has been seen heading towards the tower this morning. They are already on their way over there to fetch her, my King."  
"That's not necessary, I'll go there myself."

With wide strides Henry hurried through the corridors of his castle while countless possible horror scenarios took place in his head. Was Kenna possibly right? Did Diane seek Catherine's death? Instinctively his pace quickened.  
When he finally reached the tower, he rushed up the spiral staircase, always taking two steps at a time. Even before he reached her cell, he already yelled at the guards to unlock the door immediately.  
Completely out of breath King Henry II dashed into the dark cell. The sight that greeted him froze the blood in his veins.  
Diane, standing near the door, stared at the center of the dungeon with a manic look on her face where Catherine was kneeling with her head bowed. Her right hand that had been raised to her mouth a few seconds earlier, sank down in slow motion and Henry watched in horror when his wife visibly swallowed something. Then she closed her eyes.  
"Catherine," he screamed in panic and rushed towards her.  
"Leave, Henry, just let her be. In a few minutes it will finally be over. You're going to be free!" Diane shrieked and started laughing tauntingly.

With a protesting sound from his kneecap, Henry threw himself in front of his wife and almost knocked her over in his haste. He resolutely grabbed Catherine by her neck and pushed her head down.  
"Damn it! Throw up, come on!" He shouted but instead of following his orders she tried to free herself while shaking her head no.  
Henry jerked her back so hard that she landed on his lap. Then he enfolded her upper body tightly with one arm and pressed his other hand onto her mouth and nose to intercept her oxygenation.  
He only released her face when her resistance started to weaken. As expected, his wife shot forward with her mouth open, gasping for air. Henry reacted at lightning speed. He gripped her mouth with one hand to hold it open and without hesitating he stuck his index finger into Catherine's throat until she began to choke. A few seconds later she vomited violently and started to shiver all over.

"Oh my God," Mary, who had obviously followed him, gasped loudly near the entrance of the cell.  
Henry, still busy with his trembling wife, did not even look up while shouting orders.  
"Get Nostradamus, now!" He blindly trusted his guards to obey. "What was it you took?", Henry wanted to know from Catherine, who now rested limply in his arms. His eyes searched the puddle of vomit that had stained not only his wife's skirts but his pants as well. He discovered a strange little ball in it. "Was it this pill? Or a phial?" When he didn't get an answer from Catherine he looked up at Diane. His mistress' face was distorted with anger while she stared down at him in disbelief and unnaturally wide-eyed.

"Why, Henry? WHY? You would have been free at last. WHY? " Her screech was ear-deafening but caused his wife to finally stir again and fight his grip.  
"Put her in chains and silence her, that's beyond all bearing," he roared, still clinging to Catherine. "Was it this pill?" He asked her again and this time she nodded slightly. Relief seeped through his body. "Just this one?", he had to make sure and she nodded again. "Good, that's good I suppose," he murmured, closing his eyes for a split second.

Diane's clamour stopped suddenly and Henry risked to look at her direction. The guards had shackled and gagged her as ordered, but that did not stop her from fiercely tearing at the chains. Catherine on the other hand had become suspiciously quiet. Gently he cupped her chin and turned her face in his direction to look at her. What shocked him was the trace of tears that were running down her pale cheeks.  
"No, darling. You'll be alright, believe me, everything will be fine," he whispered, praying that his words would come true.  
"Margot," Catherine managed, suddenly struggling so hard against his grip that her elbow hit his pit of the stomach painfully.  
"Catherine, calm down. What about Margot?"  
"She sent someone to her room. Someone to harm my baby girl. Margot is in danger. All my children are in danger!" His wife screamed in a high pitched voice that almost bordered on hysteria, and pointed accusingly at Diane.

Finally Henry seemed to understand what must have taken place up here mere minutes before. Diane had threatened their children which had pushed his wife Catherine to attempt forced suicide!  
"Check on the princess and my sons immediately. Take them somewhere safe," he yelled at his guards and only this order made his queen calm down a bit.  
"Your Majesty, you have called for me?", Nostradamus' deep bass broke the silence and Henry impatiently waved for the giant man to enter the cell.  
"She swallowed poison," he pointed at the pill in question while he spoke, but didn't release his wife. "But I forced her to vomit," Henry explained while the other man nodded and kneeled down next to the couple. The seer gently questioned his Queen. To the Kings surprise she monosyllabically answered his questions and even allowed the other man to measured her pulse.

"You did the right thing, Your Majesty. Your fast reaction has saved Catherine," Nostradamus words hit him right into his core. But the seer was not yet done with him. "And obviously you still care about her well-being. I hope you'll forgive me my bluntness, but under these conditions you still keep on risking your wife's life."

Henry eyed the bearded man, admiring his recklessness and loyalty towards his wife.  
"You are a brave man, Nostradamus. Confronting your King like that. But I forgive you your bluntness, for you have saved my wife as well as my unborn child."  
Henry straightened and arose with Catherine in his arms. She protested at first, of course, but closed her eyes with relief when a guard arrived and infomred them that both Princess Margot and the princes were doing well and had been taken to a safe place. Only then did she allow her husband to carry her without further resistance. Which only proved how tired and exhaused she must be feeling.

"You disgusting bitch," mustered her last energy, Catherine hissed in Diane's direction before the door closed behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

Catherine felt the burning gazes of countless guards and servants resting on her, staring curiously at their monarchs.  
And why shouldn't they as both of them presented a more than memorable picture. The King of France was not only carrying his wife bridal style to their private chambers, no, to make matters worse she found herself in a more than pitiful condition that bordered on embarrassment.  
Each pair of eyes gliding over her, every startled sound bypassers made raised her desire to just curl up and die of shame and embarassment.  
When she saw Lady Kenna standing in front of them, also staring wide-eyed in their direction, she could no longer face this horrible humiliation.  
"Henry, let me down," she demanded less resolutely than she had hoped for. Her husband did not respond to her command, he didn't even slow down his pace. His ignorance prompted her to fidget in his arms.  
"Catherine, if you don't want me to drop you, stop struggling," he grumbled morosely.

"Let. Me. Down." She hissed angrily and mobilized her remaining strength to finally free herself from his grip. Cursing, Henry let her down besides him and stared down at her uncomprehendingly.  
"I can walk from here," she clarified while putting her first foot in front of the other. After only a few steps, stars started dancing in front of her eyes. Catherine slowed down with gritted teeth. She made another few meters with sheer force of will before the corridor began to spin in front of her. Involuntarily, she reached for the wall with her right hand to steady herself. Henry was at her side instantly, grabbing her hand and putting an arm around her waist to support her.  
"Yes, I can tell." At that comment, she glared at him angrily. "Are we going to wait here till your face hits the floor, or will you let me help you?"  
"I just need a minute," she muttered, still unwilling to give up.

Henry snorted in annoyance but made no further attempt to lift her up. His closeness and the arm he had vicelike wrapped around her midsection was overwhelming and irritating at the same time.  
Catherine focused on her breathing and tried to blank out this unpleasant situation as well as her surroundings. Henry's presence, however, was not easy to ignore.  
"Okay, let's go," she finally declared and they continued at a slower pace than before. Her husband did never leave her side. He only frowned or cleared his throat from time to time as if to say something but in the end he just swallowed his words.

An eternity later they finally reached her chambers. Henry pushed the door open and led her to the first sitting accommodation. The moment she dropped down with exhaustion, a soft moan involuntarily escaped her lips.  
"Stubborn woman," he grunted, looking at her with an intensity that made her shudder. "You look terrible."  
"Well thank you, Henry. You certainly know how to make a woman feel special," she countered acidly. She could imagine the pathetic picture of miserey she must display right now but she would have prefered to renounce her husband's ruthless honesty at this point.

"Special indeed, since none other than the King of France halfway carried you to your rooms." She had not seen this response coming. So Catherine looked up at her husband in irritation, but Henry only scratched his stubby chin as if deep in thoughts. Then he let his eyes deliberatively wander through the chambers.  
"Would you like to take a bath before you will rest?" At that question her eyes automatically glided down to her sullen skirts.  
The thought of having to remain in her filthy dress a second longer than necessary became unbearable all of a sudden.  
Henry's eyes had followed hers and he nodded in understanding. Before she could even say a word, her husband already went to the door and tore it open to shout for her servants.

Shortly thereafter a multitude of Catherine's servants and ladies-in-waiting came running in. Apparently the news that the Queen had returned to her chambers had spread faster than sound. She hated presenting herself so vulnerable and in a less than perfect state but the energy to get up from her sitting postion in order to retain her composure was simply beyond her.  
"Prepare a hot bath for her Highness and ignite the fire."  
Henry paced up and down in front of the servant, an imperious countenance on his face. Her attendants on the other side stood tensely before their king, looking back and forth between their mistress and her husband.

He finally stopped in front of Emilia, her youngest and most inexperienced lady who had only recently started serving her. His face was grim but wildly determined.  
"You're a new one. So in all likehood she hasn't yet twisted you completely around her finger. As of today I'm the one you're serving. And this is your order: You will not leave your Queen's side in the next few hours. When she takes her bath - you will not turn your back on her. When she goes to sleep - you will watch over her and if she even makes the slightest attempt to do anything else - you will immediately send for me. You'll be her shadow and I will personally hold you responsible for my wife's well-being. If Catherine tries to kill herself under your supervision, I will personally put you on a rack and break each of your bones - one at a time. Do you hear me?"

The girl nodded in terror and Catherine started to raise. Henry immediately hurried to her side and gently pushed her back down on the divan. His hands remained on her shoulders while he continued to intimidate her servants.  
"That goes for all of you! Each and every one of you is responsible for my wife' integrity. And no matter what she threatens to do to you if you don't change allegiance, my punishment that awaits you for any violation of my rules will be much worse, I promise you."

"Henry, that's enough," Catherine admonished him and with an agitated look she shook his hands off from her shoulders.  
"No, we're just getting started."  
Henry emerged behind her with a dead serious expression on his handsome face. Catherine just glared at him.  
"Get out now and prepare her bath," he yelled at the servants without taking his eyes off his wife. In no time all servants and her ladies left the room except a visibly unsettled Emilia.  
"You too, I'll call you once I'm done here." Her last remaining lady hurried out as well.

"And now, do you plan on yelling at your wife next?" The provocation in her words left Henry cold.  
"No, now it's time to establish some rules for you, my dear wife. Don't get me wrong, I won't keep you captive in your chambers. When your health permits it, you are free to leave this room. But two of my guards will always accompany you and you are not allowed to take a single step without them. Besides the gardens or a short stroll to the lake, your may not leave the castle."  
"What else?", she asked flatly, knowing perfectly well that there were more regulations to come.  
"You're under constant surveillance." Catherine nodded grimly. He had already made that quite clear by putting Emilia in charge as her personal chamber guard.

"Is that your new way of humiliating me?" She asked with a strained voice.  
"No, that's my way of preventing you from taking your life. Because my wife seems to have recently developed a serious death wish!" Although he had initially spoken at a normal sound level, Henry literally yelled his last words at her, whereupon the Queen of France looked at him questioningly.  
"Am I getting this right? It is perfectly okay if you condemn me to certain death and personally drag me to the scaffold but the thought that I could voluntary take my own my life displeases his Majesty? Seriously, Henry?!" At her words he angrily slammed his fist on the table in front of her, which caused Catherine to flinch in alarm.  
"Hell yes! You're pregnant, Catherine!"

"Believe me, nobody knows that better than I do! Or do you have to spew up your innermost each damn day? This babe is the only reason why I'm still alive. So please don't be so damn self-righteous for crying out loud."  
"I would not have exe...", before Henry could finish his sentence, Catherine jumped up in anger, ignoring the dizziness that took hold of her instantly.  
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare claiming you would have prevented my execution - even without Nostradamus' revelation. You got some nerve acting up as the great savior! What gives you the right to treat..." Now it was Henry who interrupted her angrily.  
"I have every god-given right, for I am your husband, Catherine!" At this statement, she snorted contemptuously and rolled her eyes.  
"Please, I hope you don't expect an award. You are a horrible husband," she testified condescendingly, whereupon Henry grabbed her upper arms and tried to stare her down.

"Don't push me too far, woman. Or do I have to remind you that you are a convicted adulteress who even bore an illegitimate child to her lover, who happened to be my best friend!" The anger in his eyes at her fraud struck Catherine unfiltered.  
"Well, it takes one to know one," she replied, being no less upset than her husband. "You've shared your bed with your mistress more often than with your own wife for the last few years. And I'm only talking about Diane and not your numerous sluts you tend to hump as well. You condemn me to death for one single affair that happened several years ago but you on the other hand fornicate cheery and without any sense of guilt – for the whole court and God to see! How can you be so smug?"  
"My ... misconducts are not open to debate as I'm legally allowed to take a mistress - but you as my wife are not allowed to give yourself to a man who isn't your husband!"  
"A clear case of double standards. Laws made by men - for men," she growled driven by her anger that gave her new energy.  
"Laws that, whether you like them or not, still apply to you as my Queen."

So Henry felt offended in his pride. He didn't love her, probably her husband didn't even like her anymore, but in his eyes and by the law she was still his property. And the King of France did not like to share what was supposed to be his.  
He behaved like a spoiled little brat who was angry about the fact that another boy had used one of his toys, even though it was a discarded toy he found to be completely uninteresting. But it was still his toy and nobody else should play with it.

"Cat got your tongue? No more objections? May I interpret your silence as a sign that my wife has finally come to her senses?" Henry had obviously misinterpreted the brief moment she had pondered over this absurd situation.  
"I will never stay silent so you can stay comfortable. I just don't have words with so much stupidity, male arrogance and complacency." She rolled her eyes in annoyance.  
"That was to be expected of course." Did her husband appear to be amused by her?

"Back to my rules. Where were we? Oh yes - you will be watched around the clock and you will have a medical check-up on a regular basis and will follow the instructions the doctor may give you."  
Catherine took advantage of the brief pause Henry made to reaffirm her displeasure.  
"Around the clock? Are you out of your mind? I'm certainly not going to sleep or relieve myself while someone is sitting in my chambers - staring at me!" She protested angrily.  
"Yes, you will. You have impressively proved that I have to protect you and our baby from your self-destructive behaviour."

Burning hot rage suddenly boiled up in her which was about to unload itself over Henry. Her anger drove her to rush past Henry, towards her vanity where she ripped the mirror from its fastening. She furiously smashed the shiny glass on the edge of the board.  
Then she held up one of the shards for her husband and led her up to her wrist without batting an eye.  
"If I still have the serious intention to end my own life, there's no one who's going to stop me, not even a King," she threatened, scratching her skin with a razor-sharp shard to give more expression to her threat. A few drops of dark red blood immediately gushed out from the small wound.

Before she knew it, the shard was torn out of her hand and she found herself in Henry's grip.  
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" he bellowed, inspecting the self-inflicted wound. It was nothing more than a scratch.  
"No, I'm just tired of your empty threats and your power games. Let me set you straight. You may watch my every step and send for all the doctors in the world, but I will not tolerate a stranger watching over me at night or in my most intimate moments." She was not willing to indulge in this matter.  
"Alright Catherine. Suit yourself."

Henry released her all of a sudden. Him unexpectedly giving in made her look up in surprise. However, she did not like the dangerous gleam at all that greeted her in his dark eyes.  
"Fine, but you are going to tolerate a family member who will watch over you at night and in those moments not meant for stranger's eyes."

Perplexed she stared at Henry who abruptly grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder despite her resistance. Then he stormed out of the room with her and bellowed loudly at her sevants:  
"Change of plan. She will take her bath in my chambers. Bring a nightgown for my wife and some clothes as well. Also something to dress a small wound. Why are you still standing here? Move!"


	10. Chapter 10

Fortunately his chambers were not too far from Catherine's. Because if Henry would have to carry his feisty wife only a minute longer, he risked dropping her as she struggled with might and main. Her little fists were tirelessly hitting his back while she insulted him rudely with a wild mix of French and Italian curses. It was a mystery to him where she got the energy from after her previous martyrdom.  
When he turned the last corner he shouted for his guards to open the door. With long strides Henry hurried into his bedchamber and dropped his struggling burden unceremoniously onto his bed.

"What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?" His wife shouted at him angrily.  
Her hair that had been aesthetically styled the previous day was now tousled and framed her flushed face in a wild yet beautiful way. He had always loved her hair. Honey blond with a touch of red, that suited her sometimes rather uncontrolled temper as well as her numerous freckles, she unnecessarily started to hide under her makeup many years ago. And it always smelled of lavender and wild roses, even now he could detect a volatile whiff of it. Inevitably he grabbed a curl of her hair and playfully twirled the strand around his finger.

"On the contrary, I can finally think straight again." With his thumb and forefinger he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. "Whether you like it or not, you will now reside in my chambers and that's final." In a more conciliatory gesture he ran his finger over the corner of her mouth. "Everything I do, I do for your own good."  
Henry knew that Catherine would continue arguing with him without cease until she got her way if he did not put a stop to it immediately. His wife might be the most powerful woman of France, widely feared for her fits of temper, but there was one authority even a Catherine de 'Medici had to bow to. And that was that of her husband, the King of France.

She angrily pushed his hand away so Henry released her and straighted himself. The stubborn manner she looked up at him and thrusted forward her chin was a certain indicator that she would give in for the moment but that the final word hasn't yet been spoken.  
"I would like to take my bath now. Only if my husband and master approves, of course." The sarcastic tone of her voice and her provocative look irritated him, but Henry reminded himself to remain calm.  
"Go ahead - and Catherine: don't overdo it. I have only a limited amount of patience left and you have been using up quite a lot of it lately."  
"There's only one person in this room who overreacts, and that's not me, dear husband." Even in her defeat, his Medici wife still denied him her unconditional surrender.

The king called for his servants as well as for her young lady he had previously selected to be his wife's watchdog for the time being.  
But before he left his wife in the care of the other woman, he first bandaged Catherine's wrist. Fortunately the bleeding had stopped but he still wanted to play it safe.  
When the two women had disappeared into the adjoining room, he let out a loud sigh and dropped down on one of his heavy wing chairs. Had there ever been a more complicated creature on earth than the indomitable and stubborn woman he had married many years ago?

At any rate, he could not remember ever meeting another female that was able to upset him with her calculating words, her rigid will and stubbornness to such an extent. One single rebellious look was all it took to make his blood boil.  
But his Catherine was not easy to impress with harsh words he sometimes fired her way in an helpless attempt to hurt his wife. Neither by brute force he admittedly felt tempted to demonstrate when his desire to dominate her became overpowering. A brutality he later always felt ashamed of.  
Given their changed living situation and her delicate condition he would have to learn how to master this uncontrolled side of him as not to jeopardize the welfare of his very own child.

Henry stared at his stained sleeve, then he looked at the speckles of vomit on his pants. When he inspected the rest of his clothes, he even spotted several drops of blood on his beige shirt. Catherine had certainly done a thoroughly job of ruining his attire.  
He took advantage of her absence and changed clothes before sending for his neglected correspondence. Whether he finished his work in his study or here while watching over his resting wife wouldn't really matter.

When the door to the adjoining room opened and a rush of hot, flowery sweet steam that smelled of almonds flowed in, the King of France was deeply engrossed in one of his documents. Henry instantly lowered his quill and silently eyed his wife traversing his chambers. She was only dressed in her robe and went to one of the comfortable upholstered chairs, all the time deliberately ignoring her husband's presence.  
Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of her bath and to Henry's secret joy her long, still-damp hair cascaded Catherine's narrow shoulders and back. Her lady positioned herself behind her mistress and started to carefully comb her hair. Then she tressed her locks into one thick braid.

"Okay, you can go now," Henry said after the girl had finished her work. The nervous lady made a curtsey and hastily left the royal chamber.  
"Henry! I'm not done yet, I still need her assistance to get dressed."  
"There's no need to get dressed since you're going to bed," he retorted while getting up from his chair.  
"I'm certainly not going to sleep right now. It's not even noon yet!" Her outrage was clearly written all over Catherine's face and Henry sighed in annoyance. Well, it was his very own fault. Why in God's name did he have to assume that she would follow his instructions without backtalk just once?

"You just went through some emotionally and physically demanding days and I want you to rest for a few hours, regardless of the time of day," he said with a mild tone in his voice.  
"Not even you can force someone to sleep when he's not tired," she replied defiantly, raising from her chair as well. Before she could sidestep him, Henry gently grabbed her right upper arm.  
"Tired or not. You are completely exhausted, so you will lie down for at least three hours. You've heard Nostradamus and the doctor. You need bed rest. And either you go to bed by yourself or I will carry you. That's up to you."

Catherine made a scornful sound and glared at him angrily.  
"I can very well assess if and when my body needs sleep. My bath was very relaxing and currently I'm doing great. Thanks for asking." Henry straightened his shoulders at this answer, then he pulled his wife closer and scooped her up for the third time that day to carry her to his bed.  
"I don't care, Catherine. You're going to lay down. Either you sleep or you do not sleep – suit yourself. But you will rest now."  
Like the last times his petulant wife struggled against his grip but Henry was tired of her reluctance and threw her onto the bed. Grimly, he freed the blanket and spread it over Catherine.  
"I'm not going to sleep in the very same bed where you and Diane..." Henry did not let her finish but pressed her back into the pillows with his body weight and brought his face so close to hers that he could feel her hot breath on his skin.  
"I'm sick of this discussion. If you want to see your children this afternoon, then you'd better be obedient for once."

Henry knew damn well that he had pulled and played his last ace. He didn't want to blackmail her, but obviously there was no cure for her stubbornness and after all the end justified the means.  
"You're a ..."  
"Worried husband and father. Sleep well, Catherine," he interrupted her once again while adjusting the coverlet one last time. Then Henry returned to his desk. After taking his seat, he cast a cautious glance in her direction.  
She had rolled herself into a small ball on the very edge of his bed and draped the blanket over her body in a way that blocked him from getting a look at her face. Apparently his wife was pouting. But as long as she was hors de combat for a few hours that allowed her body some much needed rest, she could sulk as much as she wanted.

"You're staring at me," she complained after a few minutes where his eyes had indeed rested on her motionless form.  
"Then close your eyes," he advised her and wrote a few words before he lowered his quill once again to keep on observing his wife.  
"I can still feel your eyes lingering," her voice broke the silence again.  
"You must be imagining it. I'm wholeheartedly attending to my correspondence." In order not to belie his own words Henry actually forced himself to continue writing. After a few minutes, however, he caught his eyes wandering back to his bed and his resting wife. Just at that moment she pulled back the covers and her eyes caught him staring at her.  
"Attending to your correspondence, mhm?!"

Without breaking their eye contact, the King got up again and slowly walked towards her. Before he reached his bed, she cut their contact by demonstratively turning her back to him. Nonetheless,he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and looked thoughtfully at the back of his wife's head. Following a strange urge he lifted his hand as if to reach out for her but stopped his motion a few millimeters before he could actually touch her.  
Catherine looked so small and lost in his big bed and the slight tremor that emanated from her shoulders down to her back startled him. What was she feeling that very moment? He couldn't exactly tell, he just sensed that it was something other than the omnipresent rage or indifference she always displayed so open and blithely when it came to his person.

Reluctantly he gave in to the urge to touch her and gently stroked the delicate skin of her neck that was so invitingly exposed under her braid. He felt Catherine stiffen under his touch and he almost pulled his hand away but something kept him from doing so. Therefore he ran his fingertips gently down her neck and then let them slid down her spine and up again.  
"Henry?" She just whispered his name. It wasn't an order to stop immediately or to keep his hands off of her – just his name. It sounded more like a question and in fact he asked himself what exactly it was he was doing right now. He couldn't tell but he did not stop either.

And while his fingers gently caressed her back, sweet memories suddenly awoke in him. Memories of a better, happier time. Memories that had been considered forgotten for a long time. Where she had voluntarily shared chambers with him and was susceptible to his touches. She used to fall asleep in his arms every night and they had both been drunk with happiness and love. He had loved touching her, even after collapsing on her body after their frenetic lovemaking, feeling completely exhausted, he had not been able to keep his hands off of her. That was the time when their childlessness had not yet opened the door to despair.

He had known everything about her body. Knew how he had to touch her to elicit that wonderful little sound of pure ecstasy or where he had to kiss her to evoke that throaty moan that drove him absolutely crazy.

Back then he found out how much Catherine enjoyed his gentle caresses, even apart from their lovemaking. That his fingers, gently caressing her bare back, could relax his wife in minutes and put her to sleep. And that his affectionate touches were pure heart-balm for the little Italian orphan girl, who had experienced hell on earth since her early childhood.

Even now his touches did the necessary to gently lull his wife to relaxation. Her tense posture had already disappeared and she had given up any form of resistance while his hands brushed her warm back. She did not even stop him from pushing the blanket down a bit to be able to reach her lower back.  
"Try to sleep," he whispered, not stopping his caress.  
An inarticulate hum that sounded more approving than rejecting was her only answer.

How long had it been since he was so close to his wife? Too long, if he could not even remember. Yes, of course there had been nights of passion between them where he had also caressed her soft skin, their numerous children were the best proof, but that intimate, loving bond they had once shared had been solidified for ages. Henry wondered why, for he enjoyed this moment and almost wished he could glide his hands over her bare skin. And suddenly he realized, that the bond that once had been between there was still existing.

When his pinkie brushed her side, a languorous sigh escaped Catherine's throat. The very idea that she enjoyed his touch, that his hands could relax her so much that she could finally close her eyes and find some much needed rest, made him happy.

But a thought that suddenly came to him dampened his euphoria.  
All these years where he had found entertainment and sexual release in his bed with various other women, Catherine had been lonely and alone.  
Because he had believed her when she told him that Richard had been her one and only misconduct. And even if the thought that his former friend's hands had touched what was only his still angered him, he suddenly felt terrible in the knowledge that no one had caressed and held his wife for all these years.

And of all people it was him who accused her of being cold and unable to love! Where it would have been his job to hold and love his Catherine, to provide her with the emotional warmth that any husband should give his wife.  
"Oh Chérie," he murmured desperately, placing an apologetical kiss on the back of her neck.

"I've been wondering all along if you've ever loved Richard," the question that had been bothering him since he'd found out about their little affair suddenly burst out of him. He briefly wondered if he had gone too far and considered retreating but to his surprise, Catherine reacted to his question.  
"At that time I believed I was in love with him." Her voice was so low that he had to hold his breath to understand her words.  
"And now?", he wanted to know and let his fingers dance over her neck's skin.  
"Today I believe that I was in love with the idea of having someone who loves me unconditionally." At this revelation, his hands stopped shortly in their movement. It took him a moment to let her words sink in.  
"Maybe it's time to leave the past behind and focus on our future instead. I'll try to be a better husband." And even as he spoke those words, he vowed to actually walk the talk. Because maybe it was time to trade this exhausting, disturbing against each other for a with each other.

For one thing he had painfully realized in these last few days. He didn't nearly feel as indifferent towards his wife he always wanted to make her and others believe. Catherine might be difficult, annoying and unmanageable at times, yet the feelings he had developed for her at the beginning of their marriage were still there. Hidden and repressed maybe, but the sight of his wife kneeling in front of the deathsman or nearly choking her life out on the cold dungeon floor had dragged all these feelings back to the surface.  
The idea that another man had intimately touched his wife still did anything but please him, but the thought that Catherine might lose her life for that misconduct was unbearable.

"Henry, save your breath. Whatever has been between us, you killed it the very moment you let me kneel in front of the scaffold. You may imprison me, force me to share chambers with you, you can even command me to lie down and rest but do not expect me to regard our marriage as anything other than it really is. A farce." Catherine eluded his touch by fleeing to the middle of the bed and out of his reach.

Henry stared helplessly at the small form of his wife. He knew that he did everything to earn her rejection and yet her decline hurt him more than he would have ever expected.


	11. Chapter 11

When Sebastian arrived at the castle courtyard at the head of his small troop, he was surprised to see Mary rushing towards his panting horse. The cold, ungainly wind tugged at her dark hair while she stoically defied the upcoming storm. Bash restrained his stallion and dismounted right beside his future wife.  
"Mary? What happened?" He wanted to know, feeling instantly worried. He did not have to be a clairvoyant to sense that the Queen of Scots was overly upset and concerned about something that had happened during his absence.  
"Your mother tried to murder Catherine. Henry has imprisoned her and wants to speak with you as soon as you're back. Bash, I ..."  
"Not here," mumbled the King's bastard and put his hand on Mary's arm to guide her towards the stables. His stallion followed him docilely. He only began to speak once they were alone.  
"I was afraid that something like that could happen. I've warned her, Mary. Maybe I should have done it more vehemently. How are Catherine and the baby doing?"

The realisation that his mother had made an attempt on the pregnant Queen's life - despite his warning - evoked bitter feelings of guilt. Should he have shown her more rigidity? Or should he have warned his father and his guards?  
"Henry was able to prevent it just in time. I've never seen him being so worried about Catherine's well-being."  
Bash closed his eyes for the fraction of a second in pure relief, then he released the air from his lungs he had involuntarily held.

With a well practiced movement he loosened the cinch and lifted the saddle from the back of his horse.  
"And my mother?", he wanted to know.  
"Imprisoned. I have no idea what Henry's up to now. But he was at least reasonable enough to realize that a cold and moist dungeon is not the appropriate accommodation for his pregnant wife. He personally brought Catherine back to her chambers. I haven't seen any of them since. But for the time being Catherine is safe." Sebastian nodded thoughtfully and grabbed a handful of straw to rub his sweat-soaked stallion with it. Mary copied his movements on the other side of the box.

"We both know how capricious my father can be. And Catherine is also not known for being docile and compliable when it comes to her husband. So who can tell how long this fragile peace will last?", he asked Mary. And even though his words sounded terribly pessimistic, he was well aware that this situation was far from over.

This not yet carried out death sentence still hung over the French Queen's head like the sword of Damocles. His very existence combined with his ambition to marry Mary was in fact the greatest danger for Catherine de' Medici.  
For at the day Henry formally acknowledge him with or without Rome's consent and as soon as he married the Queen of Scots, he would not only derange the line of succession to the throne of France and deprived his half-siblings of their legacy, their very lifes and that of their mother would be on a knifes edge from this moment forth. How in the world could he put his life above the lifes of his siblings?

Yes, primordially they might have planned to save Francis from that bleak prophecy but did the salvation of one human being justify the sacrifice of another?

Both of them, in their blind desire to rescue Francis, had completely underestimated the range of influence of their actions. In their judgement it was fair and justifiable to exchange Catherine's position for the life of her son. But their action had set off an avalanche of events, too hard to control. Something that was now outgrowing on them. They had involuntarily played at fate and the number of those whose future they would destroy with their union was no longer in any relation Sebastian could square with his conscience. His insistence on being affiliated into legal order of succession posed a far greater threat to his father's pregnant wife and her children than his imprisoned mother.

"Mary, please forgive me but I have to do the right thing."  
He gazed over his stallion's back and could read in her big compassionate eyes that Mary knew and accepted what he was trying to tell her.  
"I know," she mumbled softly, reaching over the animal's croup for his hand. "I know." The relief he saw that flashed over her sad face affirmed Bash in his decision. Involuntarily his fingers closed around hers.  
"Even though our intentions were honorable, we can not put the life of an adult prince with his own freewill over that of an unborn and his expecting mother. And as long as I insist on my birthright, Henry won't be able to temper justice with mercy on Catherine's behalf."

Mary's eyes gleamed with moisture and Sebastian watched in fascination when a single tear disengaged from the corner of her eye and slowly trickled down her cheek.  
"Francis will hate us but we need him to stop this madness," she agreed as Bash reached over the horse's back and gently wiped away her tear.  
"He does not hate you, my brother loves you. And he will forgive you." It was a complete diffrent story if Francis was ever going to forgive his own brother.  
"I'm so sorry." Mary's sad glance cut him to the quick, yet her reaction told him that he was doing the right thing for her own good as well.

Because Mary still loved Francis - and obviously she loved his brother more than she loved him. Why else would she have taken all this insanity upon herself? She even loved him so much that she has been willing to sacrifice her own happiness for his life.  
The brief moment of relief that had washed over her face had revealed her true feelings.  
And if he was honest with himself, the prevailing feeling in his very own heart was relief as well. Even though for completely different reasons. He felt relieved that the burden of being heir to the throne of France would be removed from his shoulders. He was no king, no ruler, rather a free spirit.  
"Don't be sorry, Mary. Any man chosen to stay at your side ought to feel blessed. It's just not what my destiny is about." Having said that, Sebastian stepped around his stallion and hugged Mary.  
"You're a good man, Bash," she whispered against his ear.  
"Francis probably sees it a little bit differently," he joked to cover his embarrassment. "I'll send out some men to look for him."

XXX

Meanwhile in Henry's chambers

Entrenched behind his desk, the King of France kept peering into the corner of his chambers where his wife and children had retreated to.  
The moment their three little ones had been brought here, their eyes had widened in disbelief and astonishment when they had spotted their beloved mother. Their governess hadn't been able to hold them back any longer and all three of them had flown themselfes into Catherine's waiting arms. His wife had dropped to her knees, clutching her children with the power of despair and has visibly been fighting back tears.

They had stayed in this position for several minutes. Minutes he had stared at them spellbound and felt like the cold-hearted bastard he actually was. With a wave of the wrist he had dismissed the governess and his servants. It was enough that he was feeling like an intruder. His family did not need any more eyewitnesses at this emotionally charged reunion.

When Catherine had finally led her three youngest children to the sitting area, their small tear-stained faces had beamed with happiness.  
The boys sat on the left and right side next to their mother, little Margot in her lap. The foursome were engrossed in a story his wife was telling their children in a soft and warm voice. Her hands were constantly caressing and stroking her little ones. Each time Henry forced himself to avert his gaze from his family to concentrate on his paperwork, his attention automatically went back to them only a few seconds later. Resigning, he lowered his quill.

All of a sudden Catherine choked and cleared her sore throat, what prompted Henry to rise, fill a goblet with water and head over to the sitting area. Without a word he offered the water to his wife who looked up at him with irritation clearly written all over her pretty face. She took her time before she accepted the cup and led it to her lips, all the while eying him skeptically.

Meanwhile, three pairs of eyes were staring at him. Henry felt more insecure than ever before in his entire life.  
What in the name of God should he say to these children whose mother's life he had almost taken? Children who were genetically his but for whom he was nothing more than a stranger, a phantom. Dear Lord, what a lousy father he was!

To his surprise, Charles jumped off the sofa and build himself up to his full height, standing protectively between Catherine and his father, glaring at him in anger and wild determination at the same time.  
"I don't want you to kill our mother." His body quivered from excitement.  
His declaration of war prompted his little brother to slip off the sofa as well, taking a stand next to Charles and looking up at the King of France with a grave expression on his shiny face.  
"I don't want that either," he announced and reached behind him to get his worn wooden sword to hold it under his father's nose. "And I have a sword!"

"Henri! Charles!" Catherine tried to reassure her angry boys but Henry could not even blame his little princes for wanting to defend their mother. The boys had more integrity at their young age than their old man. Henry went down on his knees to meet his sons at eye level.

"It shows great courage and valor to stand up for those we love. You truly are good boys. Good sons." Henry petted his boys heads, risking a glimpse at his wife who was staring at him dumbfounded. So he put on a big, mischievous grin. While he was looking back and forth between his sons and his irritated wife, a brilliant plan was forming in his head. "And because you have now proven how much you love your mother and that you are not only brave but also chivalrous, I have a very important duty for you. One that only the bravest of princes can fullfill." Henry paused for a moment - first looking at Charles, then Henri - who were both nodding eagerly at him and seemed to burst with curiosity and pride.

"Oh yes, father, I'm awfully brave and I'm going to defend mother against all danger," Charles promised, causing Catherine to utter a strange sound and squeeze him, overcome with emotion.  
"Me too, father, me too." Henri's assurances earned him a hug from his mother as well.  
"Then I think I've found the right princes! But before I tell you more about this special task, I have to tell you a secret. Your mother is pregnant. You will soon get a new brother or sister. But we have to take good care of her. She is not feeling well and she may not overextend herself or get too upset. Do you think we'll manage that together?"

At that revelation, the two princes suddenly turned around and their attention was now mainly focused on their mother. Margot's little hands instantly scrutinized Catherine's still flat stomach.  
"There's no baby in there," she announced disappointedly, shaking her strawberry blond head whereupon her brothers followed her example and gently touched his wife's lower abdomen.  
"The baby is still very little," Catherine clarified, glaring at Henry over the heads of her children.  
"Even if the baby is still little, your mother has to take it slow and not push herself unnecessary. Will you help me remind her of that on a regular basis?" All three children nodded eagerly, causing his wife to roll her eyes in annoyance.  
"My darlings, your father is exaggerating. I'm fine."

After her affirmation the children came up with innumerable questions his wife answered with the patience of a saint. Henry watched this interaction between his wife and his offspring from his kneeling position on the ground but did not interfere any further. He had already achieved what he wanted to achieve.


	12. Chapter 12

Feeling happier than she'd been in a long time, Catherine de Medici returned to her husband's chambers shortly after sunset. Not even the grim expressions on the faces of her two personal guards could dampen her mood on that day.  
She had not felt that good for ages and the reason for her elevated mood were her children since she had spent the rest of the day with her little ones. She had accompanied them to their lessons, then she had taken them on a nice and long stroll to the lake. She had been sitting on a bench with little Margot where they made a beautiful wreath of flower while her boys had boisterously and cheerfully romped around.  
Oh, how she had missed her little rascals! At that thought her hand involuntarily went to her womb. To the place where her unborn child was growing.

The sun, the fresh air and the endless blue sky above them had given Catherine the sensation of finally being able to breathe again.  
In addition, her normally ubiquitous nausea was giving her a break so she could fully concentrate on her children. She had even been able to enjoy a sumptuously dinner and to her own astonishment she had actually kept the food down so far.

But what bothered her was the information one member of her flying squadron had given her just before dinner. It seemed that Sebastian had a serious conversation with Henry where he asked his father not to pursue his legitimisation any longer since he would neither marry Mary nor did he intend to succeed him. As expected her husband had reacted to this change of mind with anything but understanding. After his fit of bad temper went up in smoke, father and son had visited Diane in the dungeon.

The very idea that this godless woman may have scattered new seeds of mistrust between her and Henry while she had been playing ingenuously with her children - completely unaware of any possible intrigue - caused a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

No, she would not make the stupid mistake of underestimating Henry's mistress. Or the fact that her husband, despite countless attempts to mend their shattered marriage in the past, had always returned to Diane, no matter what. A circumstance that at first had made her bitter and with time indifferent, at least on the surface.  
Catherine had faced the fact years ago that there were three persons involved in this cursed and sometimes unbearable marriage. One of these persons she hated with so much fervor, the other person...

Well, Henry on the other hand was her greatest weakness. They shared a complicate relationship that contained both moments of great hate and great lust. But what irritated her the most were burgeoning feelings of tenderness, even love sometimes, that he lavished on her from time to time. Sudden accesses of emotion that vanished as fast as they sprouted, at least from his side.

With a heavy sigh the Queen of France dropped herself down on one of the luxurious armchairs in Henry's chambers.  
She wondered how long he was going to stick to his silly conditions? Probably only until this new arrangement bored him. Or more likely until she bored him. Again. Maybe until he realized that his wife's presence in his bedchambers was not conducive to conquesting new potential toygirls. She was pretty sure that he would be feeling his oats rather sooner than later. Because Henry was anything but a celibate man.

"Your Grace, are you feeling alright?" Lady Emilia, who had mainly taken a backseat, looked at her mistress in alarm. Catherine just waved her off. Henry had obviously frightened the poor thing so much so that with every sigh and each time she cleared her throat, her lady in waiting inquired anxiously about her well-being. She had even suggested to call a carriage to bring them back to the castle when the Queen had slowed down her pace during their little walk.  
And even though Catherine's first impulse was an imperious rejection, she controlled her irascible temper and pointed at the embroidery resting on Emilia's lap instead.  
"I'm doing perfectly fine. Resume your work, child, would you?", she said softly but with firmness in her voice. Emilia nodded hesitantly but kept on eying her Queen from time to time while working on her embroidery. Catherine glared at her until the younger woman wasn't able to withstand her hard and dismissive gaze any longer.

Henry chose this exact moment to return to his chambers and his wife. She was instantly aware of the scrutinizing stare he sent her way. A stare that went right through her bones, hot and all-pervasively. With a single gesture of his hand he dismissed Emilia. Giving in to her growing annoyance, Catherine pursed her lips, let out a load groan and dropped the book she had just started reading back into her lap.

"What?" She hissed at him indignantly.  
"Catherine, it appears you're feeling better now, at least you don't look as bad as you did this morning." She countered his remark with a theatrical roll of her eyes.  
"Good Lord, no one is quite as skilled at giving questionable compliments than you, husband."  
Instead of feeling ashamed he simply walked up to her and leaned down to catch a loose strand of her strawberry blonde hair to play with.

"Dear me, is this what you want me to do, woman? Paying you more compliments? Well, how about this one: If I did not know where you've spent this afternoon and who you talked to - yes, I know that Charlotte brought you up to date about what's going on at court - I would assume that Sebastian's relinquishment of the throne and his decision not to marry the Queen of Scots was your work."  
"You have a very strange way of complimenting women," Catherine shot back, ot in the least surprised that he thought that she was capable of plotting her intrigues right out from her well guarded captivity.  
"Oh, do not worry darling, I master all common platitudes that make ordinary women be wax in my hands. But the woman I've married and made my queen is really something else."

To Catherine's surprise Henry's hand suddenly went for her stomach.  
"And how is my little prince doing?", he asked, changing the subject rather abruptly. Irritated by his behavior, his wife could do nothing but blankly stare at the hand that was stroking her lower abdomen through the thick fabric of her dress.  
"What makes you so sure that this baby is going to be a prince and not a princess?" She asked skeptically, angrily pushing his hand away since it was distracting her more than she would like to admit.  
"You, or rather your behavior."

When Henry made no attempt to explain his train of thought, Catherine got up and walked over to the window. After a moment of pointedly turning her back on him and silently lookinh ouz at the gardens below, she gave Henry a challenging look over her shoulder.  
"What's that supposed to mean?", she wanted to know.  
Henry who interpreted her gaze as an invitation, slowly headed for her direction. Quickly she averted her eyes to stare out of the window once again.

"It means that your caprices imply the sex of the baby. With the boys you were incredibly moody, petulant and much more sensitive. The girls on the other hand made you euphoric and in addition you gained weight way faster than with the boys."  
She gasped indignantly at his last statement. But when she wanted to angrily turn to her husband, his hands wrapped themselves around her midsction, holding her captive in his arms.  
"And as far as I can remember, you were spared from nausea with the girls." She felt his hot breath on her neck and shuddered involuntarily.  
"Not with the twins," she stated softly to refute his theory.  
"All right, then nausea for boys and twins." Again, one of his hands moved lower and caressed her stomach. "It's going to be a boy! I can feel it," he informed her smugly.

"Henry, you are not exactly known for your sensitivity." Resolutely Catherine pried herself from his strong arms. She had to bring distance between them. Because his power of observation shocked her. She had never been aware that Henry had studied her so well during her previous pregnancies. For although he seemed happy after each announcement - at least outwardly – Henry had distanced himself more and more once her pregnancies were showing. Although he had tried to pull himself together to shield his pregnant wife from his love affairs and refrained from shamelessly rubbing their very existence under her nose, nonetheless he still hadn't paid any more attention to her. Except during Francis' and Elisabeth's pregnancy maybe. But they hadn't hit the bottom of their misserable marriage yet at that time.

"To be honest I am actually surprised that you can even remember some details about my previous pregnancies."  
"Just because I behaved distant or maybe indifferent towards you does not mean that I don't care, Caterina. I've always loved you, even though I rarely show it. You could say I suppressed my feelings for you."  
"Are you lying to me or deceiving yourself, Henry?"  
"But on the contrary. I've finally started to be honest with you and especially with myself."

The vehemence of his words surprised Catherine so she slowly turned back to face her husband.  
"There is a blatant difference between honesty and truthfulness. I am no longer that stupid and naive girl that falls for your sweet but meaningless words. Show me sweet and serious efforts and I may give your words a second thought. If you'll excuse me now, husband."  
Having nothing more to say to him, Catherine reached for her book and withdrew herself to the seating area.


	13. Chapter 13

As much as Catherine tried to, she simply couldn't focus on the contents of her book after Henry's unexpected confession. Her mind was racing, making her thoughts constantly turn to the things he had told her - with a complacency that was nothing short of impudence and disrespect.  
How could he have the nerve to tell her that he still loved her - that he had actually always loved her - when he had thirsted for her Medici blood and had called for her head not even two days ago?!  
A contemptuous snort escaped her lips, causing her husband to look in her direction questioningly. A reaction that made her snort once again. Catherine snapped her book shut and shot an accusatory glare at his direction.

"Emilia!" She yelled for her lady before Henry could say another word and rose from her sitting position. As soon as the young woman entered their bed-chamber, Catherine motioned for her to follow her into the adjoining room. Emilia hurried after her queen.  
Catherine de Medici stopped in front of the wooden tub and turned around. When Emilia didn't react immediately, she threw an impatient look over her shoulder.  
"Well, what are you waiting for? I'd like to go to bed, if possible today," she hissed moodily, tearing the girl out of her rigour.

Emilia nodded eagerly and loosened the lace fastening of Catherine's dress with skilled fingers. Then she helped her mistress peeling off the heavy fabric until it pooled at her feet.  
"Get me some water and my nightdress, would you?" Catherine demanded as she cautiously stepped over her expensive robe and slipped out of her shoes.  
"Of course, your Grace."

When Emilia returned, Catherine had already let down her hair that now cascaded down her shoulders in gentle, golden curls. Her lady asked her if she wanted it tied back for the night and the queen of France silently nodded in agreement and let herself fall onto the only chair in the room.

Catherine actually wasn't sleepy, she rather was feeling upset, but the very idea of being stared at by Henry further on appealed her much less than retiring early. She knew there was no escape in case Henry still had some need for discussion. But she hoped that he would leave her alone as soon as he realized that she intended to turn in early today to find some rest. Something he himself had urged her to do vehemently.

Catherine closed her eyes for a short moment in an attempt to relax her strained muscles and lost herself in her ladies gentle care who first carefully brushed her hair and tressed it into a loose plait.  
"All done, Your Grace." Emila finally murmured. Catherine nodded approvingly and rose again. Then she lifted the hem of her chemise and waited for the younger woman to help her take it off.  
Just when she dipped a small cloth in the lukewarm water to wash off the stress of the day, Emila uttered a startled sound and stared wide-eyed in the direction of the door.

Catherine already knew what or rather who to expect once she turned around. And indeed, Henry had taken position right in the middle of the doorframe and was staring at her naked body quite unabashed. There was something dark and dangerous about his piercing eyes that caused goosebumps to raise on her skin. It had been a long time since Henry had last leered at her with open desire clearly written all over his angular face. Even longer since he had seen her body in all it's naked glory in bright daylight, which unnerved her.

"I think we're done here. Off you go," she told her lady, dropping the cloth back into the basin - unused. Instead of washing herself, Catherine grabbed her nightgown and slipped it on to shield her body from his hungry eyes. Then she gave her husband a hard and disapproving glare.

"What is it, Henry? What do you want?" She asked with a biting tone in her voice and reached for the cloth to wash her face and neck. She was intentionally gracing her husband with no further look, though his eyes were still mainly focused on her.  
"Nothing in particular," he replied succinctly.  
"Then you certainly won't mind pursuing this "nothing" somewhere else, husband!", She pointed out sharply.  
"I favour the view in here."  
His words prompted her to finally turn around. With hands on her hips, an angry Catherine glared at her husband and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

What looked back at her wasn't only his mischievous little-boy-charm, a charism he had not lost even after all these years, no, there was also the sparkle of something else. Something darker and much more passionate.  
"Get out," she hissed angrily, unable to muster the strength or the energy to deal with his altered behavior towards her person. She was not used to finding herself in the center of her husband's undivided attention and she did not like this new position in his life at all.  
To express her frustration, she dropped the cloth in the water and threw it with a splashy sound against Henry's wide chest who stared at her in bewilderment.

Instead of showing annoyance at her attack, Henry roared with laughter. Once he'd catched his breath he bent down to pick up the wet cloth and slowly crossed the room.  
He only came to a halt when his nose almost touched hers. Then her husband raised his hand to gently grab her chin to prevent her from averting her gaze.  
"Do tell me, am I a fortunate fool or just a poor blighter, to call such a temperamental and headstrong woman my own?" The tone he spoke with had something manic about it.

"I'm surprised that you even remember that you have a wife every now and then. Henry, I would now like to prepare for bed." After a short break she added a resolute "Alone!" and freed herself from his grip.  
"You do that," to her surprise he backed down without further protest and dropped the dripping wet cloth back into her hand. "I'm awaiting you in bed, my queen."  
The longing look he gave her left no doubt about his intentions.

Only when her bustling husband had finally left the room did the Queen of France slump down and let out a loud and desperate moan.  
Did Henry really believe that a sweet-voiced reaffirmation of his love and his oeillade brought to perfection with his numerous whores would make her forget the dreadful way he'd always treated her?  
Forgot that he had always favoured his mistress over his wife all his life? Or that he had seriously tried to chop off her head not even 48 hours ago? Well, she certainly had not forgotten!

Catherine returned to Henry's chambers twenty minutes later, feeling queasy and unready to face her erratical husband. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and put on a grim face as some form of hostile deterrent. Her husband had already closed the curtains and extinguished all candles except for a single candlestick near his bed.  
The moment he saw her, Henry let their family bible, he had been currently reading in, sink into his lap.  
To her displeasure he had made himself comfortable right in the middle of the bed and greeted her with a smug smile. His apparent newfound love for her had quite obviously put him in an amorous mood. And judging from the determined look on his face, he had decided to turn her sharing his bed to advantage.

"Would you kindly scooch over," she ordered him harshly, unwilling to let him believe for even one second that he would stand a chance with her this night or any other night at all.  
The pregnant queen slipped out of her robe and crawled under the blanket as soon as Henry moved over to the left side of his bed. His warmth, however, remained and enveloped her in a cozy cocoon.

To send him a clear and unmistakable signal, she immediately turned her back on him and slid to the very edge of the mattress. When Catherine closed her eyes, she felt his eyes burn a hole into the back of her head. She just knew that she was facing a long and probably sleepless night.

It took less than ten minutes before a rustle of the bedding behind her revealed his true intentions and a hand was placed on her waist that slowly and unerringly started to wander up to her breasts. With a low growl she slammed his hand away, but it just made it's way back to her body as if to the manner born.  
"No, Henry!", She hissed admonishing and picked his hand off of her bottom.  
"Hmhm, Catherine, but your smell is divine," he whispered and seemed anything but discouraged for he continued to stroke over her rear, despite her firm protest.

"Take your hands off me." This time her voice had taken a dangerous undertone. A waring her husband intentionally ignored.  
"Well, I could use my teeth instead, my darling wife."  
Henry moved even closer to her to press his erection against her bottom while his teeth began to nibble at her neck.  
Catherine jerked around, ignoring the fact that her knee collided with his crotch, causing Henry to groan in pain.  
"Not when there are no teeth left!" Her threatening comment elicited a chuckle from her husband, followed by another moan.  
But it still did not prompt him to move away from her.

So she straightened up and climbed over him with a determined expression on her face to get to the other side of his bed. She took the bible that he had carelessly placed on the mattress and put it on his side table.  
"Good night, Henry," she said after adjusting the pillows and curling up under the blanket.

She knew she was playing with fire. Henry was not being used to anyone denying him whatever he wanted, let alone a woman.  
So it was about time that he learned that NO actually meant NO. How he was going to react to this lesson was another story but she hoped that her current condition would keep him from responding too harshly. Because up to this day she had never declined fullfilling her marital duties.

But she no longer feared his reprisals. In the course of their marriage this faithless whoremonger had already brought hell on earth upon her. Henry had cheated on her, completely ignored her very existence for years, ridiculed her, shut her up in front of his advisors, imprisoned her and sentenced her to death.  
So with what else could he even threaten her?

"No matter how much your dauntless temper and your sharp tongue may allure me from time to time, but Catherine, do I have to remind you that you are still my wife and that I enjoy certain privileges?" Catherine turned around and straightened up to a sitting position.  
"That won't be necessary, husband. You didn't miss any opportunity to remind me where exactly you think my place is in this unfortunate marriage. But let me tell you that it certainly won't be beneath your twitching body this night. And I would like to remind you in return that I live up to my obligations to you enough and to spare by carrying another of your children! Because it's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it? To give you heirs. So do both of us a favor and be done with it."

Catherine felt a sense of power to stand up to her husband in this matter. She knew she was taking a great risk, yet she felt a sense of security.  
For Henry was not the type of man who took women against her will. He loved it when they acted coyly at first and played hard to get but he was no rapist. This assessment was what she now relied on and she could only hope that she was not making a huge mistake.

"Why do you always have to complicate things when there is no real need to do so? You wanted my love – you have it now!"  
His angry words betrayed his confusion and Henry's ignorance and cluelessness fueled a rage in her that blasted to the surface.

"You think that purring sweet confessions of love and a romp in the sheets is all it takes to make the past few years, what do I say - decades - forgotten? Henry, two days ago you've called for my head! All I have ever been for you is the woman who is supposed to bear France a heir. You've had no kind word, no loving gesture left for me. There have been times where I would have killed for getting any recognition from your side. But it's too late for that, I've come to terms with our loveless marriage. So give it a rest, would you?"

She was not one of his whores who sank to her knee when he stroked her bottom or when desire got the better of him.  
Besides, she was anything but voluntarily in his bed. In fact this was the last place on earth she wanted to be right now. No, there was no chance left for Henry and her. The last spark of hope for a possible future had died the moment the hangman had pressed her neck on the chopping block at Henry's behest.  
She knew that she would probably love him until the moment she took her last breath, even though she cursed her fatuous and maudlin heart for still clinging to this impossible man.  
However, this did not mean that she would love him up to self-sacrificing herself or forgive him again just because he showed her his rueful and meek side.

"How can you say that? There is more between us, so much more. Don't you remember how happy we were in our earlier years?"  
Henry did not sound as complacent as he usually was. He seemed rather discouraged and his voice had lost its strength. The vulnerability he displayed was completely surprising to her. She had expected an outburst of anger, maybe evil words or a tirade. But not this helplessness that verged on desperation.  
But she could no longer be considerate of his sentiments.  
"Maybe there was more - once. But you have destroyed it, Henry." Her words had the force of a stroke with a hammer.  
"Catherine..." Henry stammered but no more words passed his lips.

In order to signal her husband that she was done talking, she buried herself under the thick blanket. At this point she did not know if he just couldn't find the correct words to change her mind or if Henry had quite simply resigned. His silence sparked a feeling of relief but also unexpectedly a sense of sadness.  
Catherine closed her eyes and listened to the silence. She focused on the gentle and steady beathing of her own heart that slowly lulled her to sleep.

A loud moan tore the Queen rudely out of sleep in the middle of the night. Feeling tired and disoriented, she peeked out from under the bedding but the candle had burned down in the meantime thus the chamber was plunged into darkness.  
"Argggh" She heard a second moan right next to her and wondered if Henry actually had the guts to pursue his lower instincts in her immediate presence.

Catherine had already opened her mouth to reprimand her husband rudely when there was a soft bickering noice accompanied by another moan.  
"Henry?" She asked quietly, unable to suppress the concern in her voice.  
"Go back to sleep, Catherine!" Was his gruff reply.  
"Are you in pain?" She asked anyway and against her better knowledge. Because he was very obviously having difficulties in urinating.  
"Nothing to worry about. Now sleep." He still sounded afflicted, though his voice was firm and resolute. What confirmed her in her theory that something was seriously wrong with him. Henry has never been an easy contemporary when it came to questions of his health.  
But she knew him well enough to know that it was unwise to press him now. Nonetheless, she decided to consult Nostradamus on his behalf.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Catherine woke up alone in Henry's huge bed. The cool sheets on his side proved that he must have uprisen some time ago. The Queen of France yawned heartily and stretched her tirered limbs to throw off the last signs of sleep and fatigue.

"Good morning, Your Grace. Did you slept well?"  
Her lady in waiting's question made Catherine jump in shock. Annoyed at Henry's need to surveil her every move and the mere presence of the other woman prompted her to straighten up and cast a murderous glance towards Emilia. The young lady flinched visibly.

Quickly, the girl rose from her sitting position and adjusted her skirts with an embarrassed grimace, before reaching for Catherine's robe and offering it to her mistress with a conciliatory smile.  
"Your husband already ordered some breakfast for you. Do you want to have it right away or do you prefer to get dressed first?"

Catherine's eyes narrowed in annoyance, then she looked back and forth between her lady and her dressing-gown. Without giving her an answer, she angrily stormed past Emilia and ignored her irritated gaze, which also contained a trace of fear. Any form of tiredness had vanished from her body, while in the adjoining room she frantically inspected the dresses that had been brought to these chambers at Henry's behest. She intentionally ignored the slight dizziness accompanied by the familiar feeling of upcoming nausea.

She tore out an elegant, dark-gray dress made of finest velvet with a daring, elaborately embroidered neckline and threw it at her appalled lady. She would certainly not let Henry decide on her eating habits!  
"I will have breakfast with my children. Have it prepared in the dining hall and send for my little ones. Then you can help me getting dressed," she informed Emilia in a resolute voice.  
Her lady did not dare to contradict her mistress in this matter, thus she merely nodded acquiescently.

"Of course, Your Majesty."  
Emilia carefully placed the dress on one of the armchairs and hurried to the adjoining room to inform Henry's attendants of their Queen's orders. When her lady returned, Catherine had just opened a new vial of Nostradamus mixture against her morning sickness and brought it to her lips.  
"OH MY GOD!" Emilia cried out in fright and rushed towards her queen, her blue eyes wided in terror. On her face all horror scenarios were dislayed that Henry had threatened her with in case his wife came to any harm in her care.  
"For heaven's sake, child. It's just a remedy." Catherine snorted, draining the vial at once. "Against the nausea."

The sheer relief that fell over Emilias soft features caused Catherine to feel real compassion for the young woman. The poor thing hated her role as her personal watchdog just as much as she did.  
"Forgive me, my Queen. I ... ", the girl broke off uncertainly in search for more words, whereupon Catherine reached out for her and put a hand on her trembling arm.  
"It's okay, my dear. I know that this situation isn't easy for you either. Do not worry. I don't intend to end my life voluntarily. I won't grant my enemies this kind of joy. And now help me with that dress and my hair, would you?"

When Catherine returned to Henry's bed chamber a little later, his private servants were still busily finishing cleaning the room. They didn't even notice her presence.

With a serious expression on his face, the old valet gave the freshly-made bed a final touch, while two of the maids crouched on the floor with their heads together, whispering excitedly to each other.

"Watch it, you little chatterboxes, we still have work to do!" The older man criticized them sharply, whereupon they drove apart startled.  
"Pardon me. It's just ... you need to look at this." One of them stammered and Catherine craned her neck to see what exactly they were looking at.

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, crossing the room. The maids dropped a curtsy while Frederik, Henry's long-serving valet respectfully took a bow at his master's wife.  
"Nothing that would be appropriate for the eyes of a Queen, never the less a pregnant one, Your Majesty," Frederik insisted and only then did Catherine realize that the smaller girl was holding Henry's chamber pot in her hands.  
When the valet noticed her gaze, he motioned for the young woman to discard the contents of the pot.

Catherine stepped forward resolutely and kept the maid from leaving the room with a single, stern glance in her direction.  
"That's something I'd like to decide myself, Frederik. What do we have here?"  
The girl raised the chamber pot shyly and all three servants held their breath simultaneously, while the Queen of France stared at the contents of the pot. Catherine took a deep breath.

"Was this the first time?" She wanted to know with severity in her voice, whereupon the girls looked first at each other, then at old Frederik.  
"I'm waiting!", Catherine growled impatiently. The tall girl nervously took a step towards her.  
"It's the first time that it's this dark, Your Majesty."  
"So it didn't look normal for some time, I take it?" Catherine pursued and the girl nodded, clearly feeling intimidated.  
"No, it's been darker than usual."  
"Yet you do not think that it might be necessary to inform me or the King that there's blood in his urine?" Catherine exclaimed furiously, trying to dispel the emerging concern for her husband's health.

Frederik, who had stepped forward meanwhile, put his hand on the maid's shoulder and spoke up.  
"His Majesty has ordered us to not even breath a word about the contents of his chamber pot." When she caught the fearful look on the young maid's face she realized just how her husband must have uttered his order.

She nodded grimly at this revelation. Such behavior was so very typical for Henry and explained at least his problems while urinating.  
"Bring the pot to Nostradamus," she decided after a moment and Henry's old valet nodded with relief.

Some minutes later, the Queen of France hurried along the long corridors of the castle, deliberately ignoring the two shadows that followed her every step.

Her children were already awaiting her arrival and excitedly led her to their bountiful table.  
But the sight of the served delicacies only caused a dull feeling in her stomach region, which revealed that Nostradamus' potion had not yet taken full effect. As not to trouble her upset stormach any further, Catherine contented herself with some herbal tea and the role of a mere observer.

It didn't take long for her thoughts to wander to Henry and his affected health. Pain while passing water, traces of blood in his urine, his increased irritability and if she was not mistaken, her husband was also plagued with excruciating headaches.

Has one of his whores given him a disease? Maybe syphilis?

That thought caused an icy chill that slowly ran down the Queen's spine.  
Involuntarily, she ran her hand over her belly and sent a silent prayer heavenwards where she begged to be spared of the consequences of her husband's transgressions. Such a disease would be the death sentence for her unborn child and would induce a scandal par exellance.

Or were his symptoms evidence of poisoning? This suspicion was another possibility. Why hadn't she thought of this possibility sooner? But what kind of poison could have been used and how in the name of god has Henry been exposed to it? She didn't bother to ask herself who might be responsible for this poisoning attack since the list of enemies of the French crown was long.

She excluded food poisoning right away. His tasters were almost as thorough and experienced as hers.  
Nevertheless, she would instruct Mathilde to control Henry's food and drinks as well from now on.

"Maman, you're not even looking!" Little Henri's indignant call tore Catherine from her thoughts. She gave her youngest son an apologetic smile and buried her concern for the well-being of her children's father in the farest corner of her mind.  
"Forgive me, sweetling," she encouraged the blonde boy, who now lifted his fork and started fending off imaginary enemies with it.  
"You're doing great, darling. But your silverware is neither a sword nor a toy. So please eat well now", she chided her son mildly, who rolled with his eyes in a very familiar manner but then lowered his fork poutfully.

"Ah, I see my family has gathered to breakfast together!"  
Henry's deep baritone made both his wife and his children look up in surprise.  
Unlike the cheerful way they've greeted their mother, they now acknowledged their fathers presence more reserved and full of suspicious.  
But either Henry did not have an eye for his children's defensiveness or he simply ignored their uneasiness as he rounded the table as if it were the most self-evident thing in the world and took a stand right behind Catherine's chair.  
"Good morning, Henry," she stuck a smile on her face in favour of her children.

"You didn't eat a thing yet, Catherine." She could detect the mild reproval in his tone quite clearly while he laid his hands on her shoulders to gently massage her tense muscles.  
"Because of my morning sickness. Henry, I ..." Before she could finish her sentence, Henry spoke up again.  
"What for are we sustaining this quack?! Guards! Bring Nostradamus. My wife is not feeling well," Her husband bawled, whereupon Catherine pushed his hands away and got up.

"Stop!" This one word let the guards freeze where they were standing. "I have already taken some remedy. It only takes time for it to start working."  
"Oh, well. Okay" Henry said in defeat and stroked her cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Then maybe you want to start with a piece of toasted bread, ma chérie?"

His exaggerated care and the use of terms of endearments were still so unfamiliar that she could not think of a quick-witted retort. So Catherine nodded obediently and settled back into her chair.  
Anyway, Henry would not rest until she ate at least something. He was already preparing a plate for her. By doing so he looked up at his children and winked at them conspiratorially.  
"It's important that your mother eats enough. Since she's eating for two now."

His admonishment prompted Charles to hold up his half eaten and beloved strawberry pastry.  
"Do you or the baby want to finish my pie?" He offered generously and Margot also offered her a spoonful of her breakfast mash.  
"Thank you, my sweethearts. But some bread and salty biscuits will do."

Then her children monopolised their conversation and Catherine was more than happy about that. This spared her of having a convulsive talk with her husband. Because the only topic she wanted to bring up was not intended for children's ears.

To her surprise, Henry was attentive and curious to the tales the little ones told him. And by the way their small beaming faces lit up, she realized that he was about to win their innocent hearts over. She could only hope that he did not break them just as quickly by going back to old habits and disregarding them again once he no longer saw them as a means to an end.

Just when Charles was recounting a wild story of dragons and trolls, a great turmoil could be heard from the outside. Catherine started to rise to maintain law and order, but Henry signaled her to stay seated.  
"I'll take care of it. Don't forgot where we've been interrupted, son."  
Her husband patted Charlie's head awkwardly and left the room with a grim determination on his face.

Catherine tried to distract her little ones by asking them about their lessons for today. But to her displeasure, the volume of the screaming on the other side of the door increased to an unbearable level. She ordered her children to stay inside. Then she rose to see for herself who dared to disturb their family breakfast.

"You forgot who you're talking to! I'M YOUR KING!" Henry's angry roar echoed in the castle's high ceiling when Catherine pushed open the door.  
"I do not care! Even if you were the Lord God Almighty, I won't let you execute my mother!"  
"Francis, thank heaven!" Catherine cried out, beaming joyful at her firstborn. She exuberantly swept the young blonde man into her arms, regardless of the temperamental outburst he and his father had displayed only a second before.


	15. Chapter 15

"Mother!" Francis cried in relief and hugged her right back. "You'll have to pack. I'm going to get you and my siblings out of here to keep you safe."  
The blond young man was still embracing his mother while giving his father a dirty look.  
"I don't know what's gotten into you father, but you will NOT have the mother of your children executed. We will leave tomorrow morning and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

The imperturbable steeliness of his word made Catherine's maternal heart beat faster with pride. So far, she was used to standing up for herself without the luxury of any tailwind. And now her son, who had been deprived of his birthright and line of succession, who had even threatened her before he'd left, took her side and chose to side against his king and father. Francis chivalry moved her beyond measure.

"Don't be silly, Francis. Your mother stays where she belongs. By my side. After all, we are madly in love with each other."  
At Henry's last statement, Francis stared at Catherine in confusion who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Aloud, she simply said: "Things are a bit more complicated."  
"Nonsense, it has never been easier. We have re-found one another and a new babe – a little brother or a little sister for you Francis - surmounts our love."  
Now Henry pulled his wife close and patted her stomach. Annoyed, Catherine broke free from his grip.

"You're pregnant?"  
"Yes," she answered curtly with a testy undertone and brought some distance between herself and Henry.  
Francis, who still seemed to be digesting this new development, nodded slightly.  
"Then I guess congratulations are in order. So I'm assuming that neither my mother's life is in danger, nor the lifes of my siblings?"

Henry snorted contemptuously and once again he reached for Catherine.  
"Of course she is in no danger whatsoever. And there's good news for you too, son. Mary ist not going to marry Bash. So, if you make an effort and finally take a stand, you may conquer Mary as well as your place in the line of succession."  
Henry gave his son a hard pat on the back. Then he caressed Catherine's cheek and left without another word.

"He acts like this is all my fault," Francis muttered, shaking his head.  
With a sigh, his mother stroked a blond curl from his forehead.  
"I'm afraid your father is gravely ill."  
"You mean ill as in mentally confused?" The queen of France nodded with a sad expression on her face.  
"I assume he has been poisoned."  
"But how?"  
"I have no idea. At least not yet. But hopefully Nostradamus will find out. Oh Francis, I am so glad that you have returned safely."

The young prince saw some moisture shimmering in the corner of her eye. Was his mother fighting tears? That was more than uncharacteristic for this otherwise so stoic woman who never lost her composure.

"You're really pregnant, aren't you? This is not a trick?"  
His question elicited Catherine a humourless laugh.  
"A falsehood of this kind would be unsustainable sooner or later, even for me. I AM pregnant."  
"But you're looking far from being happy."  
"It doesn't matter how I feel about this certain development."  
At this point Catherine could no longer hide her resignation.

"Obviously father cares as of late. And so do I. How are you dealing with this? Are you feeling okay?" The genuine interest in her well-being put a tiny smile on the lips of the Queen of France.

Suddenly Francis' eyes widened. Catherine followed the direction of his gaze and spotted Mary at the other end of the hallway.  
The Queen of Scots simply stood there and stared at her former fiancé.  
"Go ahead, greet Mary. We're going to finish our talk later," his mother urged him after another warm hug and acknowledged the younger Queen with a short nod who looked at Francis in some state of shock.

Even though Catherine felt anything but indifferent in regard to Francis's future, she had come to realize that she couldn't fight fate any more than the will of these two stubborn children.

She may condemn a union between Francis and Mary, but this union would give her other children the protection they desperately needed. Including the unborn babe she carried under her heart.  
But how could a mother choose between the lives of her children?

"Mary!"  
"Francis!"  
After a brief hesitation, the two of them narrowed the distance between them and from the looks they casted at each other, Catherine realized that it was not her who had to make this decision, but Francis and Mary.

Deep in thoughts, the Queen of France retreated to her youngest children who were eagerly awaiting her.

Meanwhile, the Scottish Queen approached the legitimate heir of the throne of France with a wildly beating heart. Their eyes met and Mary recognized something familiar and long-lost but never forgotten in Francis's bright blue eyes.  
"You are back? Why? I mean, we have sent the message for you just yesterday," Mary whispered in disbelief.  
"A message? No, I've learned about my father's plan to execute my mother in a shabby dive," he explained and the dark-haired young woman felt like the most simple-minded person on earth.

"Oh," was her shameful answer.  
It was more than obvious what had lured him back to French court. Catherine's looming beheading. For a moment she had hoped that he had returned for her sake alone.

But this prospect was nonsense. Mary had witnessed Francis' and Catherine's reunion. The warm and sincere embrace between mother and son had even touched her as a bystander and reminded her once again how fiercely this woman loved her children.  
The fact that Francis had come to her aid showed that Catherine's love, though it sometimes assumed alarming proportions, was well received and requited.

Mary could not remember ever being hugged by Marie de Guise in such a warm, maternal way. Catherine on the other hand had hugged her like this in the past. In the arms of the French Queen she had once found shelter, protection and maternal warmth.

Quite differently, however, were Francis' hugs.  
They always triggered a tingling sensation in her stomach, as if hundreds of butterflies were fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

On the spur of the moment she reduced the distance between them and embosomed Francis as well. She heard a sound of astonishment escape his lips, but then, a second later, she felt him returning her hug.

"Wow," he whispered after they parted. "Your's and my mother's greeting is worlds apart from the greeting my father bestowed upon me," he joked and Mary noticed a soft blush that rose on his cheeks.  
"I'm glad you're back," she whispered.

"Yeah, above all, I am glad that I came back in time. Do you have any idea what's going on between my parents? I cannot make head or tail of it. First he wants to kill her and now he attests his love for her and mother is expecting another child?"  
His irritation was clearly written all over Francis' face.  
"If only I knew. But why don't you freshen up or I could order some breakfast for you?"

At this suggestion, Francis looked down at himself, whereupon Mary also checked his appearance. His blond curls were wilder than usual, the clothes clean but less elegant, rather simple and functional. But Mary thought that it suited him well.

"Do I look..." Mary interrupted Francis immediately.  
"No, oh no! You're looking good. I mean..." Now it was the Queen of Scots that blushed. Her uncertainty made Francis smile.

"Thank you, you're looking good as well. How about a little walk where you can bring me up to date and the two of us can figure out what's going on with my parents?"  
Mary nodded gratefully and reached for Francis arm.  
Together they strolled in the direction of the lake.


	16. Chapter 16

After finishing their breakfast, Catherine descended the stairs down the tower to visit her seer and healer. She found the tall man in a dark corner where he was focused on crushing herbs thoroughly in a mortar. It took him a moment before he registered his Queen's presence. "Catherine! How are you doing, your Grace?" He asked and placed her appearance under scrutiny.

"If I had a gold ducat every time someone asked me about my well-being, I would be a wealthy woman."  
"You already are a wealthy woman," Nostradamus reminded her. "But I am glad you're feeling better. So the remedy shows the desired effect?"

"It does. Did you analyse Henry's urine? Were you able to detect what's wrong with him?" Catherine asked without further ado. She slowly walked to the table with the crucibles, test tubes and vials and was about to unscrew one of them but her seer instantaneously took it away from her.

"This", the bearded man raised the thin vial, "doesn't belong in the hands of a pregnant woman," he said, circling the table to put the small jar out of her reach. Then he turned and pointed at Henry's chamber pot.  
"The amount of blood either suggests an internal injury or..."  
"... poisoning," Catherine finished his sentence whereupon Nostradamus nodded solemnly.

She amplified Henry's condition and shared the little information she had. When she had finished, Nostradamus scratched his beard engrossed in thought.  
"I would need to examine your husband to be able to exclude either one or the other possibility," he murmured and prompted his queen to sigh heavyly.  
They both knew how little Henry cared for her seer's capabilities and what a difficult patient he was in general.  
"I'll try to persuade him," Catherine promised.

But before she could leave the room, Nostradamus reached for her upper arm.  
"With your permission, I would also like to examine you. In addition I've prepared this medical substance. It may smell a bit distasteful, but it's good for your baby's health and growth."

Although Catherine was far from willing to undergo another examination, she knew that Nostradamus had only her best in mind. And that of her unborn child.  
So she took the vial and cautiously smelled at it.  
"Distasteful?! I would rather call it disgusting as it stinks like a freshly dunged field!", She scolded and wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

When Nostradamus made no further explanation and only looked at her with a determining ganze, she theatrically rolled her eyes but put the small bottle at her lips and swallowed the brownish liquid in one big gulp. Afterwards Catherine shook herself with an expression of disgust on her face. The healer's examination was quick and less unpleasant than the potion she had to swallow.

It was early afternoon when Catherine was on her way to the courtyard to attend her sons' riding lesson when she all of a sudden ran into her husband. Henry, who was hurrying down the corridor followed by his sons Francis and Bash, came to a halt and openly stared at her. "Catherine!" He released her two guards with a simple wave of his hand and nodded to his sons to let them know that their conversation was over for the time being. "I've heard that you've consulted Nostradamus. Is there any reason for concern?" He asked her, reaching for his wife's arm to prevent her from leaving.

"There is cause for concern, but not for my sake." This time was just as good as any other to address his health.  
"What are you worried about then? Is it because of Diane? I can assure you, she is still locked-in in the tower. Believe me, there is no reason whatsover to worry about her."  
"I don't care about Diane." The moment she uttered the words, she knew they were a lie. She had never felt indifferent regarding Diane's existence. But her husband's mistress was actually meaningless at this point.

"It's YOU I'm worried about. Henry, I think you should no longer close your eyes in denial. There's something wrong with you. Why won't you let me call a physician? Or if you prefer, you could consult Nostradamus."  
Catherine chose to forgo beating around the bush and immediately got to the heart of the problem. Henry had ignored his worrisome physical condition long enough and they certainly had no more time to lose.

Instantly his eyes darkened and his brown eyes got a cold expression.  
"Do I look like a sick man to you?!" he screamed angrily and the pressure of his hand around her upper arm tightened.

Catherine resolutely freed herself and stared determinedly up at him.  
"Henry, you have daily headaches and no healthy person excretes blood while urinating," she explained calmly, trying to keep her voice down.  
"Did I ask for your interference?" Henry roared less controlled, whereupon Catherine placed her hand on his chest in a reassuring gesture.  
"I know how little you care about your own health, but it's about time someone cares on your behalf, Henry."

She looked at him imploringly but his grim expression told her that he was completely inaccessible to any of her words.  
"I'm fine!" He yelled with the force of false instead conviction and tried to break away from her. But now it was Catherine who grabbed his arm.

She was aware that this public corridor was not the ideal place for a conversation of this import, but she wanted to get through to her husband at last.  
"Henry, you are in pain!"  
"That's enough, woman! I forbid you to poke around this topic any longer. I don't want to hear anything about it - ever. So stop talking about it. Neither to me, nor to a doctor and certainly not to your quack," bellow her King and husband and forcefully pushed her away from him.

Catherine tumble backwards. Staggering helplessly she tried to catch herself but her left foot stepped into nought.  
Then the force of his thrust threw her down the wide staircase of the royal wing of their castle.

She thought she heard Henry cry out in shock, then her back painfully hit one of the steps. A second later her head slammed against something hard and caused her to momentarily lose her orientation all the while her body continued to fall.

A hot pain spread just below her neck, a paind that felt like hundreds of stab wounds and quickly spread down her entire spine.  
But what worried her the most however, was the pulling, almost stinging pain in her lower abdomen.

"Catherine!" Henry's roar came through to her thru a dense fog of pain and misery. "Do something, don't just stand there staring! Get Nostradamus!"

Then, all of a suddenly, the fog cleared again and gave way to a heavy darkness that spread like balm in her mind, fading out the pain.


	17. Chapter 17

Before Francis could reach the stairhead, the sound of heavy boots catching up on him announced that someone was following him. He didn't even have to turn around to know that this someone was his half-brother Sebastian.  
"What do you want?" He hissed irritably and hurried down the stairs without pausing.  
"I want to talk to you," Bash replied, following him downstairs without being asked.  
"And what would that be about, brother? About you running away with my fiancée or rather about your plan to ascend the throne after Father's passing? Or is there more you might want to talk about? Maybe your mother trying to kill my mother?"

Francis couldn't hide the resentfulness he felt.  
And why should he? Maybe it was eventually time to verbalize the feeling of betrayal coupled with anger that had been so heavy on his heart since leaving some weeks ago.

"Okay, you're angry, I get that." Bash had the insolence of acting as a sympathetic older brother which caused Francis to turn around in rage.  
"I hardly believe that," he replied and continued on his way down.  
"Francis! Please." Sebastian put his hand on his brother's shoulder.  
"What else could there be left to discuss, Bash?"  
"I never wanted this to happen. It just..." Sebastian hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "...it somehow got out of control."  
"Is that supposed to be some kind of an excuse?" Francis asked, causing Bash to shake his head. "Good, because that might have been the most pathetic apology I've ever heard."

"No, we just wanted to stop a prophecy of doom and have inadvertently conjured even greater doom." Francis doubtfully looked in his brother's blue eyes that were staring at him in an almost pleading manner.  
"You mean Nostradamus prophecy? I can not believe that not only my mother and Mary but also you believe in this so-called prophecy."  
"As I said, it got out of control," repeated Bash as if lacking a sufficient explanation.

Francis shook his blond hair. The bigger part of his anger has already deflagrated. But that was something Bash didn't have to know. At least not yet. He enjoyed keeping his half-brother in suspense too much.

"That's enough, woman! I forbid you to poke around this topic any longer. I don't want to hear anything about it - ever. So stop talking about it. Neither to me, nor to a doctor and certainly not to your quack!" The angry words screamed in blind rage by their father prompted the two young men to drive around simultaneously. Just in time to see Henry pushing his wife violently away and down the stairs.

"Catherine!"  
"Mother!"  
A terrified scream escaped Henry's and Francis' throat at once while Sebastian already hurried back towards the stairs with presence of mind. The blond prince followed his brother up to the landing where Catherine remained laying motionless. Panting heavily Francis fell down on his knees beside Sebastian. Blood was already oozing out beneath his mother's elaborately styled hair.  
"Don't move her," Bash instructed him, gently examining her limbs for fractures.

Upstairs his father yelled at the guards, whose eyes went back and forth between their raging King and their injured Queen. Out of the corner of his eyes Francis registered that one of the men finally broke free from his shocked state and started running for help. His father, too, stormed down the steps and roughly pushed Francis aside as soon as he reached the landing.  
"Catherine, my Dear? How the hell did this happen?" He sobbed helplessly and tried to pull his injured wife into his arms.

Testier than necessary Francis pushed his father away, which caused the King of France to land on his behind, looked blankly up at his son.  
"Do not touch her. You've already done enough harm, Father, "Francis reprimanded him and positioned himself between the King and his mother.  
Because no matter how desperate and remorseful Henry seemed right now, Francis had seen with his own eyes how his father had pushed the woman down the stairs he had declared to love only seconds before.

"What's wrong with you? Are you losing your mind?" Francis yelled in bewilderment, whereupon his father buried his face in his hands and began to sob unrestrainedly. Apparently the King of France had indeed gone mad.

A big shadow fell over them and when Francis looked up, he looked straight into the grim and worried face of his mother's seer.  
"Please move, give me some room," the man demanded and dropped to his knees right beside his Queen.  
Bash, who was still bent over Catherine's unmoving figure moved aside and explained what had happened in a remarkably calm voice.

"You've got to save her," Henry whimpered, sitting on the steps like a bunch of misery. Meanwhile he had lowered his hands and was now staring in the direction of his injured wife with an almost mesmerizing look on his face.  
"YOU HAVE TO SAVE HER", he suddenly yelled out of his mind and stagged towards the helpers with unsteady steps.

Francis jumped up and threw himself between his parents. In his current condition it was not wise to let his father get near his wife. He would do more harm than good.  
"It would be better if you take him away from here," suggested Nostradamus with his even, deep voice. Francis shared the healer's opinion, but he feared that his father could not be deterred from staying with Catherine in his worrisome condition.

"You need to let Nostradamus do his job."  
Francis put his hand on Henry's arm, but he did not expect to actually reach him through his clouded mind. To his surprise, his father briefly blinked and all of a sudden something like recognition flickered in his eyes.  
"What have I done?" The expression of pain on his face nearly evoked sympathy but then Francis recalled how forcefully Henry had pushed his wife down the stairs. His pregnant wife, he reminded himself.

Determined, he led his father away. Away from where Nostradamus and Bash still were treating his unconscious and bleeding mother.  
"You can help by not standing in the way."

From a distance Francis and his father watched the efforts the two men took. And when Catherine de Medici was carefully carried upstairs, his sons prevented Henry Valois from following her.

xxx

When Catherine regained consciousness in her own chambers, she felt as if she had been run over by a carriage in full speed. All nerve endings seemed to be inflamed, constantly sending waves of pain through her body. A faint moan escaped her lips before she opened her eyes.

"Catherine, how are you feeling?" Even without turning her head she knew who had been watching over her. What she did not know was why.  
But then the horror of her fall down the stairs caught up with her and her hand involuntarily went to her stomach.

"My babe," she whispered in a hoarse voice, closing her eyes again to send a silent prayer towards the sky, praying for the physical integrity of her unborn child. The life of her babe was ill-omened and she asked herself how many wonders she could plead for on behalf of this baby.  
"Although there was some slight bleeding, fortunately that didn't bring on a miscarriage. But I'd be lying if I weren't still worried about your and your baby's health, my Queen."  
The relief she felt at Nostradamus' revelation had the power to block the ever-present pain she was feeling out of her consciousness.  
"Thank heaven," the Queen of France murmured in humbleness while moisture was gathering in the corner of her eyes.

And whereas Catherine was struggling against tears and her overwhelming emotions, her seer laid his big hand over her smaller one in a compassionate gesture.  
"Nevertheless your condition is still worrisome, your Majesty. You have lost a lot of blood due to laceration at the back on your head. I will give you something against the pain in a few minutes. In a diluted and less effective dose however, as not to harm the baby. But first I have to examine you to rule out a serious spinal injury." Catherine agreed soundlessly. Her baby was still alive, that was all that mattered for the time being.

Patiently she underwent Nostradamus examination while he tested her motorial abilabities for impairments. Some of the movements hurt and one even triggered an almost unbearable pain that prompted Catherine to cry out in agony whereat silver stars started to dance before her eyes.

"Despite everything, you were lucky, Catherine. You've suffered some heavy bruising that might be rather painful, but it will certainly leave no permanent damage."  
Catherine didn't feel anything but happy right now, but she gritted her teeth and swallowed the poisonous remark that was burning on her tongue.  
Her seer was not to blame for her predicament and she forbade herself to wreak her anger on the man who was merely trying to help her. Even if it wasn't an easy task.

"What do you mean, I'm not allowed to see her?! She's my wife and I am your KING, you stupid moron!"  
Catherine's gaze instantly wandered to the door the moment she heard Henry's raging voice from outside, but to her astonishment he didn't enter her chambers.

"Mother is still being treated. You'll have to wait, I'm afraid." Francis tried to bring his father to his senses, but she knew her husband well enough to know that well-intentioned words fell on deaf ears of late.  
"I'll be damned if I will! I want to see her, NOW. Move over or I'll have you and your entire family quartered and feed to my dogs!" His threat was for sure directed at her guards.

"Send him away," Catherine demanded, turning to Nostradamus who rose with a stern expression on his face and walked to the door. But before he could reach it, the door was torn open and Henry stormed into the room, with his pupils dilated and wearing a maniac mien.  
"My god Catherine, how could this have happened, my dear?!"

Upon hearing this audacity, Catherine straightened up in her bed in annoyance and disbelief, which of course caused another wave of pain hitting her body. She couldn't suppress a low moan escaping her lips. "Get out, Henry!" She demanded with an iciness in her voice that made Antarctica look like a cozy place.

"Father," warned Francis who had also entered her bedchamber, followed by Mary and Bash.

"I can't just leave, don't you see?! Not until I'm convinced that you and the babe are alright. Tell me you're fine, Catherine. Tell me!"  
"Henry, I want you to go!" She told him instead vehemently, ignoring his angry request.

"And I want to know how you and my child are doing," her husband bellowed, storming in her direction. Right in front of the bed, Henry sank to his knees and despite her protest he grabbed Catherine's hand and brought it to his lips.

Then he uttered a strange sound - half sob, half scream - and Catherine thought she saw a telltale glint of moisture in his eyes. Nevertheless, she didn't allow herself to be softened at the display of his emotions and wrested her hand from his grip.

"Nostradamus!" Henry shouted since his wife refused to answer his questions and sharply jerked around to look at the bearded man. "Tell me how she is doing or I swear to God you're going to face your Maker today," he threatened.

Francis, breaking away from his position next to the door, started to intervene. Catherine however beat him to it by straightening up in pain and addressing her husband.  
"Don't you dare threatening Nostradamus, who is unlike you just trying to help me. If you still feel a spark of decency or respect for me, you will leave now. For I cannot bear your presence a moment longer, Henry. So please be so kind and get the hell out of my chambers!"

Shocked by the violence of her words, her husband stared at her for a few seconds before he lowered his head. The eyes of everyone present were directed at the King of France who seemed to be hit hard by the speech his wife had just given him.  
With the severity of an old man, Henry finally rose and left the room. Not without throwing one last beseeching look in Catherine's direction.  
But she avoided his gaze and looked the other way.


	18. Chapter 18

The long hours of recovery Catherine had to spent confined to her bed extended to an unbearable eternity. A tenacious mass of never-ending hours that stretched into endless minutes and everlasting seconds, threatening to drown her in bottomless boredom. Adding to her misery was the oppressive care her servants, her family and her seer were giving her. Their intensive care nearly suffocated her.

This exaggerated concern for their Queen's and her unborn heir's welfare slowly but surely drove her insane, and from time to time Catherine caught herself considering having them all removed from her chambers.  
All but her children - her greatest happiness and joy - whose mere presence contributed more to her recovery than any potion Nostradamus could bring her.

The mere thought of her little ones coaxed out a loving smile that spread all over the face of the injured Queen. At least that cursed fall down the stairs had brought her something good. She was now able to see her children on a daily basis, even several times a day, if she wished so.

Henry, on the other hand, hadn't been re-invited into her chambers since that fateful day.  
Even though she might not have seen him, she still had heard her husband. He had screamed, begged, cried and threatened her guards in his despair, hammering against her door, which – however - remained closed at her command.

Although she refused to grant her husband access to her chambers, his worrisome condition dominated her thoughts and her conversations she had with Francis, Mary and Nostradamus.

Henry's unpredictable and dangerous mood swings got more and more out of hand, while his ability to rule a country became highly questionable. At Catherine's behest, Francis had secretly taken over most intrastate and especially all international matters. He consulted his mother on a regular basis at her urging, albeit unwillingly, as he, like all others, was concerned about her health and the well-being of his unborn brother or sister.  
Francis taking over matters of state was a decision even Henry's privy council supported with growing acceptance, since it's members were not being spared by Henry's outbursts.

Because the frightening extent of his outbursts and tantrums, his apparently crazy ideas were meanwhile growing into a serious problem they could no longer sweep under the carpet. There were already rumours about the King of France's unstable state of mind circulating that would certainly spread over their borders sooner or later.

How long would it take until the news that the King of France had gone mad would reach England and other potential invaders?  
Catherine did not even allow herself to imagine the possible extent of their situation. The mere thought of it was enough for her blood to run cold.

And there seemed to be no person on earth Henry was willing to listen to, no one to exert influence on him and his actions and certainly no one who had the power to stop him.

"Your Majesty? Your son Francis and the Queen of Scots are waiting outside, wishing to see you." Charlotte had apparently approached her unnoticed and tore Catherine out of her gloomy thoughts.  
"Then let them in, for heavens sake, what are you waiting for?" she replied in a snappish voice and mechanically smoothed the thick blanket over her legs.

At her behest, her lady opened the door and let in the true and only heir to the throne of France and his former fiance.

"How are you feeling today, mother?" Francis' words caused a warm smile to spread on Catherine's formerly worried face. For no matter how often she threatened to suffocate on his well-intentioned but excessive caution, she knew his concern was sincere and wholeheartedly.

With growing motherly pride, the Queen studied her son's spruce appearance. Francis looked handsome and grown-up in his black doublet with delicate golden embroidery. When had her golden boy grown up to be a caring and energetic man?

Catherine let her gaze wander over to Mary, who was also approaching her. She watched her attentively until their eyes met. The Italian detected a soft expression that was nothing short of genuine affection on the younger woman's face.

Despite all the conflicts of interests and differences between them in their not too distant past, Mary was quite obviously able to put them at rest and focus on their current problems. A strength of character that Catherine hadn't thought the girl was capable of at this young age which made her look more mature in her eyes and earned Mary her admission.

"You're already looking much better. Even the colour has returned to your cheeks," the younger Queen noted with a smile, reminding Catherine of the little girl that had sought refuge in her arms, frightened by circumstances, but trusting nevertheless.  
"Thank you, I'm actually feeling rather good." The older woman replied, smiling warmly and reached for Mary's hand to squeeze it briefly. A simple gesture, whose true meaning didn't go unnoticed to anyone present. This was a peace offering.

"How is your father doing?" Catherine wanted to know after a while and her question froze the smile on her son's face.  
"If I'd say his condition is unchanged, I'd be lying. To be honest, his behavior and mood swings are getting more and more unpredictable each passing day. Yesterday father was seen riding a sow in the throne room half-naked." At these words Catherine's eyes widened in disbelief. Under other circumstances the mere idea of such a hilarious performance would have made her laugh, but the seriousness of this situation stopped her from doing so.

"Lord have mercy," the Medici woman murmured instead.  
"And he has dismissed most of his advisors and generals and chased them from court – mad as hell. He is obsessed with the idea that they are conspiring with England behind his back."   
"Are you sure that he has only dismissed them?" Catherine asked, who was afraid that her husband would not even shy away from murdering half of his advisors in his current condition.  
"I'm not sure of anything when it comes to father. In his state of mind he stops at nothing and no one. Before we came here I intercepted a letter where he demands to be canonized by the Pope."

Mary nodded at Francis' words with a serious expression on her face and Catherine noticed the glances the two of them exchanged in what seemed to be a silent agreement.

"Mother, I know the timing couldn't be worse," her son slowly walked around her bed and sat down on the mattress next to her. His warm hand reached for hers and squeezed her briefly before his attention wandered to her belly, where his youngest sibling was growing. "But we have no choice, we have to act."  
"Before the damage he causes can no longer be corrected," Mary added and Catherine saw regret flashing up in the Scottish woman's soulful eyes.  
And suddenly she understood.

They had come here to plan the murder of the King of France, her husband.

Dazed by this very idea, Catherine shook her head in denial. Was this drastic and at the same time irrevocable step really their last resort?  
"There must be a way to take him out at least temporarily until we know what's effecting him," she murmured more to herself, recalling all her potions and their effects Nostradamus had given her over the years.  
"Catherine, even if you or Nostradamus happen to have an eligible potion, do you really think Henry will take it voluntarily? And secretly administering it to him..."  
"... is extremely difficult if not impossible at all." Catherine finished Mary's sentence, knowing that his team of tasters was working almost as thoroughly as her own.  
"And we don't even know if we will ever find out what causes this", Mary added.

"I wish we had another choice. But there is no getting through to him. Father is like a powder keg whose fuse has already been lit and who threatens to explode any second. And that on a devastating level. He doesn't take advice, he doesn't listen to reason. He just issues threats, tortures noble men... There are no limits, nothing he can't break, bend or even destroy in his eyes."

Catherine briefly closed her eyes while thinking about the meaning of her son's words. Then suddenly a flash of insight hit her. She re-opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in her bed.  
"There is one limit he accepts," she said, whereupon Francis and Mary looked at her ominously. With a dissipated gesture Catherine pointed at the door leading to her chambers. "He screams, he pleads and he cries at my doorstep almost every day, but he doesn't attempt forced entry. He says he loves me." Her last words were merely a hesitant whisper that left a strange, almost bitter taste on her tongue.

"Mother, I don't think it's a good idea to..." Francis started to protest, but Catherine reached for his hand to silence him.  
"This is our only remaining chance to get through to him. I'll talk to him, Francis, we have to take advantage of his alleged feelings. And in case I won't succeed..."  
The Queen of France hesitated for a second. Then she swallowed her remorse and spoke up with an unexpected harshness in her voice. "...then I will prevent Henry from causing more damage."

At that moment she wished that the frost and hardness of her words would also reach her heart and freeze it to stone in order to escape the pain that seemed to flood every fibre of her being at this prospect.  
Because if she wasn't able to reach him, she would be forced to kill her husband.  
The father of her children and the man she still loved against all reason.


	19. Chapter 19

After the serious talk she has had with Francis and Mary, Catherine instructed her guards to grant her husband access to her chambers the next time he appeared and didn't seem overly aggressive or violent. A fine line between hope and peril, that she knew, since his mood changed every second recently.

And when the door opened the next day and Henry appeared on the threshold, the Queen of France involuntarily held her breath.  
"Catherine?" The nasty unpredictable undertone he had adopted as of late, surely a result from his madness, had disappeared. In front of her stood the nervous fourteen-year-old boy of their past, a boy who didn't know how to face his bride.  
Her heart made a nervous bounce at the sight of him.

Nevertheless, she restrained her inner expectations as not to run the risk of losing herself in an illusion.  
"What do you want, Henry?" she asked and tried to hide her emotions from her husband.

Henry closed the door quietly, but he visibly flinched at her question as if her words had hit him like a punch in the face.  
"I wanted to see how you're doing. How you and the baby are doing," he corrected himself and looked at her with puppies eyes that caused her steel-hard façade to totter dangerously.  
"We're fine," she replied and her right hand automatically moved to her belly to gently stroke it.  
Henry, apparently encouraged by this gesture, walked towards her and sat down on the edge of the bed next to his wife.

For a few seconds he stared first at Catherine's still flat stormach, then he flopped down on her all of a sudden, his head resting on her lower abdomen, clutching her in an almost painful embrace.  
"I don't want to lose you, but you keep on pushing me away," he sobbed loudly and reinforced his grip.  
"Henry," she mumbled indecisively, unsure how to react to this emotional release.  
"I didn't want any of this to happen!", Henry cried.  
"I know," Catherine lied, stroking her husband's shaven head in a soothing gesture. "I know. But you need help, Henry."

Her words prompted him to look up at her. Moisture glistened in his eyes and a silver trail of tears was running down his cheeks.  
"No, I just need you, then I'll be fine," he argued with more vehemence than she had expected, pulling her even more tightly into his arms.  
"Henry, you're NOT fine." Catherine endured his grip without resistance and tried once again to get through to him.  
"But that's why I'm with you now, my sweet little darling. I feel good with you. But please don't ever leave me again. I need you. I love you".

After hearing this emotionally charged statement, the Queen of France closed her eyes for a moment.  
How often in the past had she wished to hear words of this kind out of Henry's mouth? Words that were true and sincere, words she could believe in.  
But now she was sure that it was his madness that afflicted him and made him say these things.  
"You are sick, Henry. Please remember: You have pushed me, your pregnant wife, down the stairs. No one who is doing fine does something like that. Or does love involve harming the ones you claim to love?"

There was no elegant way to say the things that had to be said. Henry had to hear the truth and she had to see his reaction, even if it was a dangerous venture. She knew she was playing with fire.

"Will you hold this against me forever? It was an accident! A little carelessness, Catherine. You're fine, you've just said so yourself."  
His lack of discernment was a sure sign that her husband could no longer see the consequences of his actions. And what worried her the most, he could not muster enough empathy to reflect on his actions.

Catherine reached for his hand, which was still resting on her lower abdomen and gently caressed his fingers.  
"Henry, what do you think of a pilgrimage," she finally asked, suggesting a way to inconspicuously remove him from the castle and therefore from the source of his poisoning. At best she could even send Nostradamus with him, who could monitor his health and aid his recovery.

"A very tempting idea." Henry dropped down onto the pillows next to her, then he rose again to prop himself up on his elbows to look at his wife. "But I'm afraid I can't go. I can't possibly leave my pregnant wife all by herself, defenceless and alone." With his right hand he reached for one of the loose strands of her hair and gently tugged at it.

"But I won't be alone, Henry. Francis has returned." Catherine sat up in her bed and laid a hand on her husband's chest. "Reappoint Francis as your legitimate heir and he will pursue affairs of state for you during your pilgrimage."  
After a short break she added a little reluctantly. "And he will take care of me."  
"I don't trust this little usurper. Besides, I don't want to leave you."

Henry's hand, that was still playing with her curls, suddenly slipped under her nightgown and grasped her left breast.  
"After all, a King needs his Queen," he announced and rudely kneaded her sensitive flesh.  
"Henry," she snarled in warning and pushed his eager hand away.  
"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? It's been ages since I've last had a woman, even longer since this woman had been my own wife." Henry ignored her protest and tugged at the blanket to get to the hem of her nightgown.  
"Yes, and that left me pregnant with yet another heir. Please think of our child."

It would never have occurred to her before to reject Henry's advances. Now, however, the thought of having sex with her mad husband - being at his mercy - frightened her and caused a cold shiver to run down her spine.  
And she was indeed worried about her unborn child.

"But it doesn't bother me that you're carrying my child under your heart. In fact, this is quite an exciting thought. My own flesh and blood, sprung from my loins. I remember very vividly how our little prince has been conceived."

Full of zest for action, Henry tugged at her nightgown until a loud tearing noise could be heard. His hands instantly covered her bare skin and Catherine started struggling to fend off his brisk hands.  
It didn't take long and Henry lost his patience.

More violently than necessary he tore her hands up over her head and slowly sank down on his struggling wife.  
"I just need to feel you, you're driving me insane," he whispered with an almost apologetic expression on his face while holding her captive.  
"Henry, NO," she hissed and tried to control the fear that was rising in her, crawling slowly but steadily up her spine.  
"Hold still, I don't want to hurt you."

Henry's gaze, which had been clear at the beginning of her conversation, had now become transfigured with lust and there lay a dangerous glint in his eyes.  
"NO! You're already hurting me. Get off of me", Catherine screamed and began to fight against Henry with all her might.

Just when her knee collided with her husband's crotch which prompted him to groan in pain, the door to her chambers was torn open and Francis, followed by her guards, stormed into the room. He violently pulled Henry from his mother, his handsome face distorted with rage.  
"Didn't you hear her, father? She said NO and she is your wife. Your pregnant wife who has almost lost her child due to your behaviour. What is the matter with you?"

Catherine had never seen her eldest son in such an angry state. It embarrassed her that he had witnessed this incident, although she was not really surprised to find out that he must have waited near her chamber door. After all, Francis had been against this plan right from the beginning.

"How often do I have to tell you? I didn't want her to tumble down the stairs! And far be it for me to hurt Catherine or the baby. But you don't understand. This pain, Francis. This pain in my head. Sometimes I think it's going to explode! Only when I am with your mother, I can bear it. She takes the pain away. I can't live without her!"

Where before his gaze had been dominated by lust and rage, there was now pure despair written all over Henry's face.  
Francis used his change of mood and grabbed his father's arm. Then he nodded as if understooding his madness.  
"But you must not forget that she is still hurt and that excitement is neither good for her nor for the baby."

And all of a sudden, worry and remorse flamed up in Henry's bewildered gaze and he sank down to his knees right beside the bed.  
"Forgive me, my darling. Your weakened condition slipped my mind. As of lately I tend to forget things. Important things. Please forgive me," he mumbled remorsefully and tried to free himself from their son's grip, who struggled to pull his father back on his feet.

Catherine sensed that she was the only person who could persuade Henry to leave her chambers peacefully. So she flattened her blanket and said in a calm, almost soundless voice:  
"I forgive you. But I must ask you to leave now. I need rest. The baby too." Francis exchanged a worried look with her, but to both their relief Henry rose and nodded.  
"Of course, my dear."

This time he did not resist the guards hands who made sure that he actually left her chambers.

It wasn't until Henry and her men were out of the room when Fracis hurried to her. A sorrowful expression on his face.  
"Are you all right, mother? I should never have agreed to you meeting him alone. He's unpredictable." His concern touched and embarrassed her at the same time.

When had Francis started feeling responsible for her well-being? To her it seemed like yesterday when he was still a little boy who had sought shelter behind her skirts. Now her golden child had become a prudent man with a heart of gold who had made it his mission to protect his family from harm.

"I am fine, Francis," she assured him reluctantly. "I can deal with him, I always have. He is my husband." She didn't know whether she was lying to herself, to her son or to both of them at the same time.  
"Maman, he is dangerous," her eldest said vehemently and scrutinized her so intensely that Catherine resignedly shook her head.  
"I just can't believe that we have lost him to his insanity."

"It is inevitable", Francis announced with determination in his voice and restlessly began to walk through her chamber.  
Catherine swallowed hard at the thought that apparently they just had determined regicide.  
"I want you to leave court. You're no longer safe here. Besides, your absence will absolve you from any suspicion."  
"No Francis. That's something I cannot allow," the Queen proclamed and sat up. Francis immediately hurried to her side and took a seat on the edge of the mattress.  
"Maman, you have just personally experienced how dangerous father's fixation on you is. I don't even want to imagine how his visit to your chambers would have turned out if your guards and I hadn't stepped in." At this image Catherine involuntarily flinched and reached for Francis' hand.

"And I am forever grateful for that but I cannot allow you committing a sin because of him, my son."  
In the last decades she herself had committed countless sins, made sacrifices and decisions that were questionable in the best and unforgivable in the worst cases. And even with the knowledge that she had always acted for the sake of France and the House of Valois, it was clear to her that sooner or later she would end up in purgatory for her sins.  
She had already lost her guilty conscience and her sense for righteousness years ago and knowingly accepted her imminent condemnation.  
And she would not allow Francis to initiate his reign with blood-soaked hands.

"I have to and I will. And I assure you that no matter what happens, you and my younger brothers and sisters will always be taken care of." The determination in his otherwise so gentle features made Catherine swallow hard. "Let me do what needs to be done. This is my destiny, Mother."  
Francis reached for her hand and led it to his chest. Then he placed it right above his heart that was beating strong and fast.  
"Promise me," he demanded since she remained silent. "Maman, please promise me!"

"I promise." Even though she only reluctantly got these words out, Catherine agreed. She couldn't refuse her golden boy.  
"Thank you. I will talk to father and make him agree with you leaving French Court in order to fully recover. Everything will be all right, I promise you that!" His blue eyes were shining with determination and confidence. A confidence she would have loved to share, but couldn't.

"Let me be the one to speak to him." When Francis looked at her in shock at this request, Catherine added in a sad tone: "I need to say goodbye."

At least one last time she wanted to see the man she loved against all odds and all reason. She forbade herself to hope for a miracle. But one last time before her departure she wanted to put her arms around him, smell his unmistakable odour. Out of some foolish, even irrational sentimentality. Probably some side effect of her pregnancy, at least that's what she told herself.

"Okay, but I don't want you to be alone with him," the future King of France agreed, albeit unhappy with her suggestion.  
"I want the little ones to be present as well. And you, my son. They should see their father at least one last time."

One last time she wanted to give herself over to the illusion of being part of a real family.


	20. Chapter 20

"You agreed? How could you? He is dangerous." Mary's tone sounded higher than usual and her big, expressive eyes gave Francis a disapproving glare.  
"I know, Mary, I know. But how could I refuse her? She is his wife, she is expecting his child and..." Before Francis could find more arguments to alleviate his guilty conscience, his former fiancée interrupted him.  
"... and she was almost raped by him! As if this isn't bad enough, the two of you now want to subject the princes and little Margot to his madness? Francis, you should have talked her out of it!"

"She wants to say goodbye, Mary! And that my younger siblings get a chance to see their father one last time. Yes, we are taking a risk, I'm more than aware, but this is the exact reason why I will also be present. I will not let him hurt her or the little ones. Because I will very soon have to murder my father and I will certainly not allow him killing my mother out of delusion".

No longer able to control his raging emotions, the rightful heir of the throne of France raised his voice and imploringly looked at Mary.  
"That won't happen, the both of us will have to make sure of it," she told him and reached for his arm to stroke it in a soothing gesture.  
"Mary, that means the world to me. Knowing that you're right by my side in this terrible situation and I don't know how to thank you for taking care of my mother's welfare during my absence."

Now it was Francis who reach out for Mary's hand. With a gentle caress he ran his thumb over the smooth skin of the back of her hand. The Queen of Scots opened her mouth in protest, but Francis beat her to it.  
"Please let me finish. Bash told me that you've saved my mother's life. You've saved her despite all the things she has done to you in the past. I will always be in you debt. But Mary, I can't allow you being dragged any deeper into the abysses of my families downfall."  
Upon hearing this, Mary hesitantly raised her arm and stroke his cheek with a gossamer touch of the tip of her finger.

"But Francis, can't you see? I am already knee-deep in the midst of this crisis, in the midst of your family. A family that grew closer to me than my own mother for all of my life. There might be a Scottish heart beating in my chest, but it also beats for France, for the Valois family and for you, France's future King."  
Mary looked at him and Francis wondered if it were withheld tears he saw shimmering in the corner of Mary's eyes.  
"But apparently not as much as it beats for my bastard brother," he whispered with a sad tone in his voice and forced himself to keep his anger at bay. For he knew that this was not the time for reproaches, nor for remonstrances.

"No Francis, it beats so strongly for you that I am willing to set the person free, whom I love the most. So that he can live. Even if this means that we're living apart from one another. Because his life is more important to me than my own happiness."  
"Mary! Please tell me that this is not about this stupid prophecy!" Francis' abrupt exclamation prompted the Queen of Scots to caress his cheek one last time befor she let her hand sink.

"Nostradamus' predictions have been proved to be true and very precise in fact. And your mother believes in them as well. Although I condemn her methods, I can still comprehend her worries, Francis. She just wants to protect you. And so do I."  
Francis detected wild determination sparkling in Mary's beautiful eyes. Her immovable determination was a characteristic he normally loved about her, but now it was driving him to despair.

"But have you considered talking to me? Have you asked yourself what I might think about this so called prophecy? Has it ever occurred to you that I would prefer a year with you by my side that's filled with happiness to an endless life consisting of loneliness and regret? I would even prefer one single minute with you to eternity!"  
The vehemence of his words had the power of an earthquake that shook the ground beneath their feet. Mary also felt that power and when Francis noticed her slight stagger, he reached out for her upper arms to balance her.

"Don't say such things," she whispered in a hushed voice and shook her head in denial.  
"But Mary, I have to tell you and you have to listen carefully," Francis raised his hand and mirrored her previous actions by gently stroking her cheek.  
"Don't let your fear direct your actions for it prevents you from living. From loving. Whatever it is that exists between us, it's bigger and much more powerful than one of us alone could ever be. How many people in our position do you know – who are destined to rule one or even more countries - who have the chance to marry the person they love? How many royal couples do you know that love each other sincerely? Just take a look at my parents! Mary, what we have, what we share, it's special. Please don't let fear destroy everything he have." The ferocity of his words caused Francis' chest to tremble with anticipation.

"I can't bear the thought of losing you." Fear stared back at him from Mary's eyes. But also love and if he wasn't mistaken, Fracis even detected a tiny glimmer of hope sparkling there.  
"But you could bear living without me? Knowing that I'm out there, far away from you, missing you, being miserable without you?" he asked and hoped that he wasn't ruining his only chance of happiness with his provocative words.  
"I've tried," Mary whispered quietly and was quite visibly fighting with her emotions. So Francis remained silent to give her the opportunity to master her thoughts. "But it's been hell."  
"Yes, it's been hell." Francis agreed.

Slowly he reduced the distance between them and pulled Mary into his arms. Her body trembled slightly at first and stiffened. But then she melted into his embrace. Francis closed his eyes and absorbed her heavenly fragrance.  
Oh how he had missed her!

"I'm also driven by fear, Mary. The thought of having to kill my father frightens me no less than becoming King myself. I am afraid of not being enough for you, of disappointing you and of the weight of the responsibility that will be dumped upon our shoulders as soon as my father is gone. But I am less afraid when I imagine having you by my side. I don't know if our fears will ever decrease, but we could face them together. As husband and wife. As King and Queen."

Carefully as not to startle her, Francis released Mary and took a step back to look at her. Even in this moment he could feel how cold fear was creeping up his spine. Fear of rejection, fear of losing her once and for all.  
But when he locked at Mary beautiful face, all he could see was love. Love in it's purest form. He found it reflected in her eyes, in the way she smiled at him and in her hands, that drew him back to her. He found it in her lips that kissed him and in her whole body that snuggled against his in a perfect symbiosis.

Francis didn't know how long they were just standing there, finally being able to be close to each other.

They got lost in their kiss.  
A kiss that was a beginning and an end at the same time.  
The beginning of something promising and the end of all her insecurities.  
It was a promise to the future and their willingness to fight their fears.


	21. Chapter 21

"Look, Maman, this I've painted for you!" Little Margot held up a painting where Catherine, with a lot of imagination, could identify a horse on. With a valorous smile on her face, she placed a kiss on her youngest daughter's forehead and then awe-strickenly inspected the picture.  
"Thank you, my sweetling. What a beautiful horse," she praised her little girl and meanwhile tried to hide her concern. She suspected, no, she rather knew that this last meeting between Henry and her children was more risky than she even wanted to admit and the exhausting tension she was feeling since she'd had this fateful conversation with Francis had left her nerves strained to the breaking point.  
"It looks more like a mule," Charles, who had risen from his sitting position, commented matter-of-factly while leaning over her shoulder to look at his sister's artwork.  
"Not a donkey," Margot protested in the cutest, most pouting way.

Catherine glanced at Charles and lovingly stroked her little one's back to reassure her.  
"Charlie doesn't seem to know the exact difference between a donkey and a horse. I'll have to take him to the stables more often." Francis, who sat on the floor next to Henri and was busily setting up an arm of miniature soldiers with his brothers, looked over to the table where his mother and Margot were sitting and conspiratorially winked at his sister.  
"I want to come to the stable with you as well!" Henri demanded loudly and in his zeal the boy knocked over half a battalion of his soldiers.  
"I'd rather stay with Maman and wait with her for the baby to come," proclaimed Margot, palpating Catherine's stomach with her little painted hand.  
"But that'll take quite a while, darling."  
Catherine couldn't bring herself to rob her boys of their illusion by explaining that they wouldn't go to the stable with their older brother in the near future. They wouldn't get to see Francis for quite a while because their departure was imminent.

Saddened, the Queen of France stroked over the raspy parchment in front of her and allowed herself to escape into her bleak toughts for a second. She was afraid of the things to come and of this final farewell that would change her life forever.  
Not only would she lose her husband and the father of her children, but also her crown that would no longer belong to her the moment Henry took his last breath.

As if he had guessed her dark thoughts, Francis rose and approached the table where she was sitting. In a comforting gesture he laid his warm hand upon hers and sank to his knees in front of her.  
"We can still call it off, mother," Francis conceded, but Catherine vehemently shook her head. She knew that he was only talking about this last family meeting and not about Henry's impending elimination.  
"No, Francis. No."  
"I'm worried about you," her eldest said quietly, as not to frighten the little ones. Touched by his considerate behaviour, Catherine freed one of her hands in order to stroke his cheek.  
"I'd feel better if you would lie down again, as the doctor and Nostradamus have advised you" he added, but Catherine just shook her head.

"If I spend one more day in bed, I'm also running the risk of losing my mind. Don't worry, Francis. I'm fine." At least as fine as circumstances allowed her to be. Anyway - good enough to leave her bed. And Catherine enjoyed finally feeling like a human being again, wearing other clothes than a night or a dressing gown. If only it weren't for her physical weakness and those damned mood swings, that were certainly related to her current condition.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation between mother and son. Catherine, who was about to rise, was gently but surely being pushed back into her chair by Francis.

"No, you stay here. First I want to check on his condition before I'm letting him near you or the little one." Francis' care touched and frustrated her at the same time. She understood his concern, the extend of her last encounter with her husband was still fresh in her memory, but his exaggerated caution also left her feeling powerless. Well, perhaps it was time to get used to that feeling. Because sooner rather than later she would be exactly that.

A powerless widow, pregnant with a madman's child, being at the mercy of her son and his future wife.

Her nerves were tense and she thought she could feel her innards shrinking with nervousness. Catherine attentively tried to listen to what was being said outside the door but she couldn't hear a word.

It took them a few minutes, then the door to her chambers was opened and Henry, closely followed by Francis, crossed the threshold. His face brightened as soon as he saw her.  
"A family reunion! What a wonderful idea," he enthusiastically exclaimed and approached her with his arms wide open. Even before Catherine had fully risen, her husband was already pulling her into a tigh embrace. "You're back on your feet," Henry remarked and before she knew it, he was eagerly pressing his lips against hers.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Francis was already moving towards them in order to remove him from her, but she signaled him not to intervene for the time being. For the duration of the blink of an eye, Catherine gave in to the familiar, now kind of bitter feelings her husband's touches still sparked in her, but then she withdrew herself from his arms.  
"Aren't you going to greet your children?" she asked in a calm voice, bringing some distance between the two of them. Henry first looked at her, then at his little ones, who stared up at their father with big eyes.  
Margot slipped from her chair and rushed towards Catherine, burying her little face between the wide skirts of her dress. In a soothing gesture, the Queen stroked her little girl's hair and at the same time she gave her sons an encouraging smile.

"Oh yes, the children," Henry muttered and looked from one child to another in irritation as if unsure abouth what to do with them.  
"Hello father," Charles was the first to pluck up his courage and got up from his sitting position. In an awkward gesture, Henry drove his fingers through his son's dark hair and nodded at the boy.  
"You're getting big, young man. You're more like your father in that way." Henry winked at Catherine as if he had made the funniest of jokes. "But what else to expect from a boy who bears the name Henri?"

Catherine briefly closed her eyes at this announcement. Henry couldn't even keep his children apart. But before she or Charles could react, Francis bawled out:  
"This is Charles, father. Not Henri!" Her eldest could not hide his anger either from his mother nor from Henry, whose facial expression hardened instantly.

In order not to risk an escalation, Catherine moved between Francis and her husband and in a calming gesture she laid her hand on Henry's forearm.  
"Henry, Margot and I are going to have some tea now. Would you like to join us?" she offered gently.  
"Why not..." The King agreed and he scratched his chin lost in thought.

Relieved by him giving in, Catherine pushed her husband towards one of the armchairs and took a seat opposite him. Then she lifted Margot, who still seemed petrified and was glued to her skirt onto her lap and stroked the little girl's back in a calming manner.  
"Did you hear that, sweetling, your father is going to spend some time with us?" she whispered. Only then did Margot timidly nod her head and Catherine waved at the servants, who started serving their tea with a variety of diffrent biscuits and tartlets.

"Drinking tea is such a girly thing," Henri explained, who rose from his position on the floor and looked back and forth between the set table and his small army of soldiers.  
"Oh, then biscuits and tartlets are most certainly for girls only and not suitable for young princes." Catherine teased, who hadn't missed how avidly her son was inspecting the sweet treatst that had been served.  
"No, maman, biscuits and tartlets are young prince's favorite food." A mischievous grin appeared on Henri's angelic face and at that moment Catherine saw so much resemblence to his father in her boy's face that brought some moisture into her eyes.

Before she could succumb to her emotions, Catherine took a deep breath and resolutely blinked away this treacherous moisture.  
"Well, if that's the case...," she said and gave her son an approving sign to help himself with a treat. Charles also demanded a tartlet, only Francis did not budge from the corner where he had retreated to. His attention was still fixed on his father in a rather grim way.  
"Perhaps your father would like to help you putting up your arms after his tea?" She knew she sounded tense and troubled, but neither Henry nor the two boys seemed to mind. Her suggestion even encouraged her boys to insist on Henry joining them in their game. When the latter agreed, Charles and Henri beamed ath him with happiness. This sight put a stab in their mother's heart.

What was she going to say to them once their father was dead? For even though Henry did not spend nearly as much time with his children as she wished him to do, they still loved him dearly. Just as dearly as she did.

So after he had finished his tea, she encouraged her husband to participate in the game his sons were playing in order to give her little princes one last positive memory of their father. Francis, who was still watching Henry like a hawk, gave up his position at the wall and went over to his mother where he sat down on Henry's recently vacated chair. While Margot was sleepily playing with her doll in Catherine's arms, mother and son silently watched the game that took place on the floor.

With growing concern, the Queen and the Prince witnessed Henry becoming more and more worked up about his miniature army, turning more agressive with each passing minute. His movements became erratic while he advanced his soldiers, his stony-faced expression grim.

"Children, enough of that. It's time for me to see if you've learned your Italian lessons," she said hurriedly and waved her boys over. They immediately put on sheepish faces and looked back and forth between their mother and father in a pleading way but Catherine didn't give in to their pouting.  
"Now!", she insisted.  
"Please, one second mother, I just need to... oh." In his eagerness to continue the campaign he had just started, little Henri's knee nudged some of his father's soldiers who, after a short fight against gravity, overturned and took even more soldiers with them while they fell.  
"Now you have eliminated father's entire army," his brother Charles chuckled and rose. Then he threw a pitiful look in Henry's direction.

For the blink of an eye Henry's face was petrified at the sight of his destroyed troops, then his expression distorted into a terrifying mask of rage. And before one of the boys, Francis or Catherine could react, Henry reached out and hit his youngest son's face with so much force that send the child flying. His slight body crashed hard against the table.

While Henri was lying on the ground, whimpering quietly, Charles retreated with fear filled eyes from his father, whereas Francis jumped from his chair and threw himself at Henry. Catherine also jumped up – clutching a very frightened looking Margot to her chest - and hurried towards her abused child, who started to sob loudly as soon as she pulled him into her arms.

"You've gone completely mad!" Francis' angry voice filled the air, drowning out his mother's softly spoken words of consolation, while she was trying to calm down her little ones.  
His shouts also alerted the guards, who rushhed into the room and came to their crown prince's aid since Francis was fighting a doomed battle against a rather violent Henry, who's eyes had a wild and dangerous glow in his fury.

"He destroyed my troops, my soldiers fell, all of them, which leaves France defenceless," Henry ranted, completely out of his mind, and managed to break loose from the hands that were trying to restrain him.  
"What if England decides to attack us now?" His words echoed through her chambers while he tumbled towards Catherine, who was moving in front of her traumatized children to shield them with her body.

"For heaven's sake, this was just a game, Henry," the Queen yelled at her husband but Henry seemed rather unimpressed for he drew his sword and was towering over them in the most direful way.  
"Release him, Catherine. I don't want to hurt you. But this little traitor here needs to learn his lesson. I won't tell you again, wife."  
"FATHER!" Francis warned him, what caused Henry to drive around at lightning speed. His blade only missed his elders by a hair's breadth.  
"You," Henry yelled and gave Catherine's guards a dirty glare. "Back off! That's an order!" he spit and with one step he was at Francis' side and held his blade to his son's throat to give more substance to his demand.

"Henry, that's enough," Catherine demanded with a raised voice. A unyielding expression lay on her face while she pushed her children under the table to seek shelter there. Then she rose to her feet in order to face her husband. "These are your sons you're threatening. Our sons."  
"Little usurpers. That's what our treacherous sons are!" Henry whispered and turned to his wife, who kept on approaching him fearlessly.  
"They are just children", with these words her hands went to her lower abdomen, where she was carrying yet another of his children. Her husband's gaze followed her hands.  
"Some among many. Replaceable. You are already pregnant with another child of mine, Catherine. I can give you as many as you'd like. Better ones."

His brutal, insensitive words forced the Queen to swallow hard, yet she courageously continued approaching her husband, hoping against hope that he would not start to threaten her life as well.

"No Henry! The mere thought of your hands on my body makes me sick. YOU make me sick," Catherine spat at her husband with the power of despair. She was wildly determined to die for her children now and here if necessary. For if she could only draw his attention away from Francis long enough, her son and the guards would be able to overpower him. And she was more than willing to make that sacrifice. Any sacrifice. For all and each of her children.

But instead of refueling his rage, her words evoked an expression of naked pain in Henry's eyes.  
"Mother," Francis hissed in an attempt to warn her, but his intervention merely doubled the pressure of the sword blade against the young man's throat.  
This sight broke Catherine's last restraint and she let her anger and despair get the better of her.  
"You are sick Henry, terribly sick, and I won't tolerate you threatening my children for one second longer. Your own flesh and blood, born by me, born in pain. And now you are going to lower your sword and leave my chambers." When he didn't react, she shouted at him fervently: "HAVEN'T YOU HEARD ME?"

Frightened by her outburst, Henry actually lowered his sword and helplessly stared at his wife, his eyes wide with confusion.  
"Good, and now you'll go. The children and I are going to leave by tomorrow, for I can no longer stand your presence. And there is nothing or no one who is going to stop me from leaving. Most certainly not you."  
"But Catherine..." her husband stammered laboriously while his sword fell to the ground with a loud clinking noise. The Queen of France ignored his pleading stare but nodded at her guards instead, who approached their mistress' husband with grim faces and finally grabbed him by his shoulders.  
"You can't just leave me! It's only you who's keeping these demons in my head at bay. I need you, I love you!" Henry desperately fought against the hands that were restraining him, but the guards didn't loosen their grips.

Catherine took another step towards Henry and the cold in her eyes turned his blood into ice.  
"That's no love, Henry," she explained, but her husband just shook his head in denial.  
"But it is. And I need you. I can give you everything you ever wanted. Everything!" Henry stopped and creased his forehead as if thinking about what he could offer her. Then his face brightened visibly. "Diane! You want me to have Diane executed? Or you can get rid of her yourself if you prefer."  
"I don't care what happens to Diane, Henry," Catheirne hissed unconciliatory, all the while ignoring the stinging sensation in her lower abdomen that was slowly spreading through her body like a humongous wave. "Kill her, pardon her, take her back into your bed, for all I care!"  
"Then what else could I offer you? Do you desire jewelry and beautiful robes? Ponies for the children? Or maybe a leopard? I'll give you everything your heart desires. EVERYTHING, you just have to stay!"

Catherine pressed her shaking hands firmly against her midsection and fought the fit of dizziness that was making her stagger.  
"Mother, I think you should sit down" Francis said, who had been watching her attentively. He hurried towards Catherine and led her back to her chair despite her quiet protest. Once she was sittling, Catherine looked up at her husband's face that was heavily marked by pain and grief.  
"I want Chenonceau."she demanded quietly.  
"Then it shall be yours. Just don't leave me."

"That was enough excitement for one day. I want you to lie down, Maman. I'm going to send for Nostradamus. And you...", Francis moved close to his father and gave him a murderous glare.  
"... you'd better take a leave now. You've certainly done enough damage." His tone was cold and cutting.

With a firm nod, Francis signaled the guards to show his father out. But before the men could escort Henry out of the room, Catherine raised again.  
"Henry," she softly called after her husband, who stopped dead in his tracks. Then he slowly turned around to face her.  
"If there was ever a time in your life where you have loved me, sincerely and with all your heart, then let Nostradamus check on you. If not, then there's nothing left for me but to pray for your immortal soul."


	22. Chapter 22

18 weeks later  
Chenonceau Castle

.

"Your Majesty?"  
Catherine looked up from the letter she was writing.  
"What is it?" was her uncourteous answer and her disapproving glare struck the young servant boy who dared to disturb her.  
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but an important letter has just arrived. It's from Lady Charlotte."

The Queen of France sighed heavily, then she rose and impatiently reached out for her lady in waiting's letter. By doing so, her growing bump that couldn't be missed any longer, abutted against the edge of the table. Instantaneously her other hand went to her belly and Catherine stroked over it in an apologetic gesture.  
"Well, what are you waiting for, give it to me," she hissed. Impatiently she opened the seal and released the boy with a single look towards the door.

With a stoic expression on her face, Catherine read the information one of the most trustworthy members of her flying squadron had marked down. Charlotte had stayed behind and kept her informed about the occurrences at court.  
After reaching the end of the letter, Catherine de Medici let herself fall back into her chair in shock.  
Once more her hand wandered to her round belly and she solicitously stroked over the soft swelling where her baby was growing.  
"Your father's body might be healed from the poisoning of this damn Bourbon, my little darling, but obviously not from his obsession of getting rid of me," she muttered, feeling a slight kick against her hand in response to her emotional distress.

Much had happened since she had turned her back on Henry, Francis and French court. To her astonishment, Henry had taken the last advice she had given him to heart before she had left for Chenonceau.  
Because both Francis and Charlotte had shortly thereafter informed her that her husband had not only undergone a thorough examination, Henry had even agreed to a painful treatment that had for the most part neutralized the remaining traces of the poison in his body.  
Nostradamus, her faithful friend and confidant, had even been able to track down the source of his poisoning.

Henry's family bible.  
The very same bible she had several times been holding in her own hands.  
This idea made her shudder and curse Antoine of Navarre, this felonious Bourbon who - in his blind rage and desire for revenge - had misused one of Henry's servants for his dark deeds.  
A betrayal that had cost the servant his head.  
Not so Antoine's.

Now Henry was longing for revenge and Catherine knew that nothing would stop her devilishly determined husband from paying the Bourbon back in kind. And if he didn't, she certainly would! No one threatened her family with impunity, not even Henry, who was currently at the bottom of her favor.

But what her husband was planning now, made her blood run cold. Henry had apparently resumed his attempt to having their marriage annulled.  
For if she believed Charlotte's words, he had not only sent several letters to Rome, Henry also planned a trip to the Eternal City.  
And even though her lady didn't know the formal reason for his efforts, Catherine didn't need much imagination to guess his motives.

It seemed that he had lost his patience with her meanwhile. At the beginning of his treatment, Henry had send letters to her on a weekly basis, begging for her forgiveness. He had promised her in so many frilly words that he was willing to see to her and any wants she might have in the future. As long as she returned to him.

But Catherine stood firm and refused time and again. Not only for her sake, but also for the sake of her little ones. The last encounter with their father had deeply distraught her children.  
Henri in particular, who was still terribly frightened and was hanging onto her skirttails almost every waking minute. Night after night her youngest son was haunted by nightmares and her once so lively child had become a withdrawn, whiny boy.

She didn't want to expose her children to the coldness and hecticness that reigned at French court just yet. Not before they were feeling better. She also enjoyed the time in this magnificent castle and here at Chenonceau she finally found time and muse to dedicate herself to the most beautiful things in life apart from her children.  
To art and to music.

Two things she loved and had neglected far too long.  
And she couldn't imagine a better place to bear her child.

But the way things looked at the moment, she might have to consider a change of plans.

Catherine thought about possible ways of how to intervene from here, far away from court. Probably her best option was contacting her family in Florence, who had a close relationship with the Holy See, asking for their support. They would be able to influence the Pope even before Henry could personally audition in Rome.

She doubted that Francesca, a hard and unyielding matriarch, would once again rush to her aid to save her crown. Her relative had left her for certain death on her last visit, ashamed of Catherine's failure and unwilling to continue helping her.  
No, a petition by letter would be a futile attempt to save her skin.  
If she wanted to succeed and beat Henry, Catherine herself had to travel to Italy.

"It seems you will see the light of day in Italy - my home county," she whispered, softly stroking her swollen belly.  
Time was running out for her. She would have to hurry if she wanted to prevent her baby from being born on a dusty road to Florence, in the middle of nowhere.

"Gabrielle!" The door flew open and one of her most loyal ladies in waiting entered the salon.  
"Catherine, are you feeling all right?" the chubby, short woman asked her with concern. She was wearing a worried expression on her face and critically scrutinized her pregnant mistress.  
"Gabrielle, you have to pack my things. As well as for my children. We will go to Italy. I know that Henry is watching my every move. So we will take a little ride to Fontevrault Abbey to visit Claude. Make sure that two carriages with our luggage will await us there. They have to leave Chenonceau at night under false pretenses."

Gabrielle, whose amazement was written all over her round face, hesitated for a brief moment as though considering whether she stood a chance at dissuading her mistress from her plan.  
"Do you think it's wise to take a ride? In your condition, I might add..." she dared to say and directed her gaze at the queen's steadily growing middle.  
"I think it's necessary," Catherine explained with unyielding firmness in her voice and pointing towards the door. "Arrange everything and be sure to only involve as few people as possible. Only those you trust. Then you will return to my chambers to start packing my things."

With a decisive gesture, Catherine dismissed her lady. The advanced state of her pregnancy required a careful selection of her wardrobe. Fortunately, her favorite dressmaker had just paid her a visit last week and left out the hem of some of her dresses. In addition, the man had brought her new, loose fitting robes, she would surely grow into over the next couple of weeks.  
A very fortunate coincidence.

XxX

2 days later  
Royal Court  
, 

"As for the unrest in Alsace ... we should ..." Francis was not able to put his thoughts into words, since he was abruptly interrupted by his father.  
"Francis, I am sure you will be able to handle this little unrest. A few months ago you were ready to become king. Now you have a chance to prove yourself. And you have Mary and Sebastian by your side. The three of you will surely come up with something."

In an encouraging yet powerful way, Henry patted his son's narrow shoulder and nearly knocked Francis off balance by doing so. The next moment the King turned to his stallion, that was impatiently scraping with his hoof.  
Francis lowered his blonde head for a few seconds, as if feeling ashamed for coming up with the plan to get rid of his mad father. But then he looked up and stared right at his father's eyes, who had mounted his horse meanwhile.  
"I don't know what to say. This whole mess got..." Henry interupted his eldest once again.  
"Don't take it as a reproach, son. If I had been in your shoes, I would have gotten rid of this madman king way sooner."

They had hardly talked about the plan Francis had cooked up with Catherine and Mary in order to eliminate him. Henry didn't have to. One look into his son's guilt-stricken face was enough to let him know that his son hadn't taken this decision lightly.

Basically he couldn't even blame Francis for all of this.  
An insane king, a violent father and a crazy husband was not only an enormous burden for his family, he had been a danger for the whole of France!  
A less merciful heir would probably have taken Henry out of the way much sooner. But thanks to his son's kind-heartedness he was still alive.  
And thanks to Nostradamus' help. Admitting this was one of the hardest things Henry ever had to do.

"We're ready, my king," the bearded man informed him this very moment and Henry nodded, deeply lost in his thoughts. He didn't like the idea of this self-proclaimed prophet being part of his entourage. But if the information he had received from his spie at Chenonceau was correct, then the man might still be able to prove his usefulness.

What the hell gave his pregnant wife the notion to flee to Italy in all secrecy and with his children, including the one she was currently carrying under her heart? To worsen things she planned on fleeing on the back of a horse for the first part of her journey to outsmart her husband. In her condition!

"Do you really think that this is the best approach? As far as I understand, she hasn't changed her mind and isn't willing to see you. And what about this wild story about her imminent departure to Italy? Why would she even do such a thing? Or did you...?", before Francis could express his conjecture, Henry interrupted him rudely.  
"I did nothing! But it keeps on nagging at me. I do understand that she doesn't want to see me or have me near the children. But things have changed. I have changed. For the better. And I think it's time for Catherine to see this and to return to where she belongs. At the side of her King and husband. And if she does plan her flight to Italy, then I will stop her and bring her back home." Wild determination was written all over Henry's grim face.

"Nothing I could say will change your mind," Francis resigned and he looked briefly in Nostradamus' direction. "It reassures me that you are going to accompany my father", he said to the bearded man.  
Henry laughed out in amusement and decided not to take his son's words personally.  
He raised his arm in a silent goodbye.  
Then he dashed the spurs against his horses flankes and galloped off.

XxX


	23. Chapter 23

Henry, who was heading the small troop on his robust black stallion, was the first to spot the sole rider that appeared behind a slight rise. His first impulse was to slow down his pace to better assess the situation, but then he realized that the man was wearing the royal coat of arms and cantered towards him.  
"Your Majesty," the man shouted as soon as he was within earshot. "Your wife is already on her way to the convent of Fontevrault. There she will await her carriage that is supposed to arrive overnight in order to bring her to Italy in all secrecy."

Henry cursed at the idea that Catherine had indeed planned to leave France.  
"How far is it from Chenonceau to Fontevrault? Six hours?" he asked his spy who diligently nodded.  
"Yes, they might even need seven hours since her majesty carries your child and will only ride at a moderate pace," the man suspected and Henry nodded with a grimly set face. If they spurred their horses, they would arrive at the same time, maybe even a bit earlier.  
As far as he remembered, Claude was accommodated in Fontevrault. It seemed that his wife had planned on taking the girl along to Italy. Heaven alone knew what had induced her to take on such hardships– in her condition.

Well, he would beat her to it and he certainly would put an end to her sulking once and for all.  
There was only one place where his wife - his Queen – belonged to:  
And that was right by his side.

He probably had to repent his whole life for the things he had done to her and his children in his poisoned mind, but there was one thing he was more confident about than ever before. And that were the feelings he had for his wife.  
Maybe the effect of the poison had been responsible for bringing his emotions to light, but the poison was not the trigger. Because he had always loved Catherine.

No, the moment in the tower, where he had held her and violently forced her to vomit and to spit out the deadly pill Diane had blackmailed her to take, had opened his eyes.

Diane, another nuisance he had ignored for far too long. But in the past weeks and months he had more important things to do than worry about the fate of his imprisoned mistress. He had to reign over a kingdom that had been jeopardized by the deeds of an insane King – his mad self. He had to appease his privy council, the noble men of France and numerous ambassadors of potential invadors. And first of all his son and heir, who had been willing to sacrifice his mad father for a greater whole. In addition he had been struggling with the effects of the poisoning that had affected his body long after.

Thinking about Diane's fate had not exactly been his highest priority. But maybe it should have been. After all, his former mistress had committed treason by trying to kill his wife and the Queen of France. A mistake he intended to correct as soon as Catherine had returned to court. This gave him the opportunity to prove to her that she was important to him and that he cared about her well-being.

When Henry and his men approached Fontevrault, he spotted a dozen riders in the distance. They were also approaching the convent from the east at a less hurried pace. He discovered children and three women among the riders. That had to be them!  
The King of France raised his hand in a gesture that stopped his soldiers.  
"Over there," he told them and galloped off towards the other group of riders.

Contrary to his expectations, the others turned back as soon as they spotted the superiority that was coming towards them, which incited Henry to curse in irritation. Angrily he spurred his stallion and took off after his family, followed by his men. When Henry got closer he realized that the two boys were sharing a horse lead by Charles. Catherine was riding a magnificent chestnut mare and had little Margot in front of her. Since her belly had grown from a nearly non-existent bump into a considerably huge bulge in the meantime, she was unable to securely hold their baby girl at a faster pace and therefore slowed down her horse after a few hundred meters, unable to follow the prices. She called out to the soldiers accompanying her to ride after her fleeing sons.

"Go get the princes," Henry shouted on his part and out the corner of his eye he saw Nostradamus catching up with him on his grey horse.  
"Are you sure that it's wise to hunt them down? They could fall and hurt themselves," the other man warned him. Henry, too, had already thought about this. "But be careful and make sure not to harm them!" he shouted after his men as he steered his own horse in Catherine's direction.

After a few turns, he diagonally dashed out of the bush just in front of his wife and sharply tore the reins to stop his horse. A handful of his soldiers who had followed him circled the chestnut mare, robbing Catherine of any route of escape. Admitting defeat, she stopped her own horse in front of Henry, who had already descended and reached for the reins of her mare.  
"Where are you going, my love?" he asked her with a hint of mockery in his voice and without warning he took the little girl from his wife's arms and passed her on to Nostradamus, who had already rushed towards his mistress.

Before Catherine could even bring forth a word of protest, he also lifted her off the horse's saddle.  
"Henry, stop it, what are you doing?" she asked outraged and broke away from him immediately.  
"Forgive me, Catherine, but I have to negate your itinerary since in my opinion the road to Italy is too difficult and too exhausting for a woman in your condition."

While speaking, Henry let his eyes wander over her lush body. The barely noticeable bump of a few months ago had turned into a bulging pregnant belly. Also her cheeks and her breasts had gained fullness and especially the latter pleased him to no end.  
"What makes you think that I'm interested in your opinion?" Catherine atomized her poison verbally and indignantly whirled around looking for her sons. By doing so she spotted Nostradamus, who was holding little Margot in his arms and was talking to the girl in a calm and soothing manner.  
"Nostradamus?! What are you doing here?"  
"He's here at my order," Henry anticipated the seer's answer. Then he turned his attention to the tall man and said: "Stay with my wife, I'll look after the boys".

Before getting back on his horse, Henry paused briefly and then gave in to the urge to touch Catherine by gently stroking her cheek.  
"After that, the both of us are going to have a serious talk, my dear wife."

Catherine stared angrily at her husband's back, who was chasing after her sons.  
"I'll kill you if something happens to them," she screamed, then she drove around to face Nostradamus. "Well, I've asked you a question!" The Queen of France's infuriation was clearly noticeable, but her bad temper simply ricocheted her seer without effect.  
"I just thought it might be a good idea, Catherine. How are you doing?"  
"How am I doing?" she spit back at her seer and snatched her daughter out of his arms, who immediately clung to her mother and buried her little face into Catherine's cleavage. "Psst, it's all right, my angel," she reassured her daughter while her worried gaze glided into the distance.

How would her boys react to their father? Little Henri was still so anxious and on edge. She could only hope that neither the children nor her husband would do something rash.  
She quietly started humming and rocked her baby girl back and forth.  
In the middle of her movement she felt an unpleasant pull in her lower abdomen. Not the first time that day, but the intensity of the pain had increased.  
Before Nostradamus could notice her discomfort, Catherine turned away from him and began to slowly walk up and down the grassy path. If she was not mistaken, these were premonitory pains and in the past she had always taken a hot bath or a stroll to palliate the effects. Since taking a bath was out of question, slowly walking up and down had to suffice.

"You're avoiding my question", Nostradamus' deep bass sounded right behind her and Catherine turned around angrily.  
"How do you think I'm doing? Henry is trying to ..."  
The heavy thunder of approaching hooves made her pause in the middle of the sentence and she drove around. Her eyes immediately searched for her sons among Henry's soldiers. She discovered Charles on Henry's horse. Her little Henri was riding with one of the guards. His eyes were red and veiled by tears.

Catherine whispered some reassurances into Margot's ear, then she handed her girl over to Nostradamus and hurried towards her boys. Even before the soldier had brought his horse to a complete halt, Henri threw himself down into her waiting arms and instantly started to sob.  
"Maman," he cried, clutching to her so tightly that she had to gasp for breath. His weight almost brought her to her knees, but Catherine couldn't bring herself to let go of her trembling child in his despair.

She noticed Charles approaching them and stroking his little brother's back. "It's all right, Henri," he whispered.  
Suddenly Nostradamus was at her side, gently but surely wrestling the boy from her arms.  
"He is too heavy for you. I'll take him." He had already set Margot down and placed her little hand into Charles'.  
Catherine was reluctant to let her son go, but she realized that it was impossible for her to carry his weight any longer.

"And now?" she hissed towards her husband, who had appeared in her field of vision and stared at her in the most unpleasant way.  
"Now it's time to return to court," he replied. "Nostradamus, you take Henri," he decided and chose another soldier to take care of Charles, while Margot was to ride with the nanny who belonged to Catherine's entourage.

"What about Claude?" Catherine asked, since she had announced in a letter to the Mother Superior that she wished to pick up the princess and take her along.  
"It will be a pleasure to meet up with my little girl. We will take a short break at Fontevrault so that all of us can calm down. Then we continue our journey back home. Claude is welcome to accompany us."

Quite unexpectedly her husband put his arm around Catherine's waist and directed her towards his horse.  
"I am not one of your children you can patronize and lift on any horse you'd like without being asked," she said when she noticed that he intended to grab her.  
"No, you are my wife and I won't lift you on any horse, but on mine," he corrected her and had the audacity to smile at her cheekily.  
"I - we are too heavy," she protested, but Henry already grabbed her and lifted her onto his strong black horse.

"Admiral carries me in full armour with shield and lance. He for sure doesn't mind your additional weight and that of our little squirt," he replied in amusement and mounted his horse right behind Catherine. Shortly afterwards, one of his hands lay itself over her belly in an intimate, possessive way.  
"Isn't it amazing how much my little prince has grown?"  
"Henry," she growled as a warning. A warning her husband deliberately ignored.  
"So Catherine, what's going on, what's the point of all of this? I mean, Italy isn't exactly around the corner. What do you want there?"  
"Do you of all people have to ask me that?" she replied sniffily and knocked his hand off the centre of her body, which, however, was not easy to shake off.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. If... Oh my God, did the little one just move?" With enthusiasm, Henry pressed his hand against her belly, inevitably pulling her tighter against his steely chest.  
But what Henry had felt was not a movement of their baby, but another Braxton Hicks contraction that nearly tore Catherine's abdomen in half.  
"Henry," she gasped, but then fell silent in order to breathe away the pain.  
"That's incredible," her husband rejoiced and didn't even notice her tension in his fatherly joy.

When the contraction had ebbed, Catherine tried to relax her body, which was anything but easy due to her present situation.  
For the remaining minutes it took them to reach Fontevrault, she remained silent while Henry chose to keep on palming her stomach.

With the exception of Francis and Leeza's pregnancy, her husband had given her little attention when she had carried one of his children in the past. So she was confused by his interest in her and her child. She couldn't even remember if he had ever perceived Claude, Charles, Henri or Margot as an unborn.  
"Nostradamus suggested that I should give you some time to rest. I will take his advice to heart. But afterwards we will talk, my dear wife. Many things have changed in the last months and it's time for the two of us to have a serious conversation," he explained while they passed the gates of the convent. Once his horse came to a halt, Henry dismounted and lifted her from the saddle a second later.

Catherine was worried about the way he spoke and the words he chose. Did this mean that he was actually contemplating an annulment?  
But why the sudden interest in her baby?  
Unless he was just planning on getting rid of her and not of the children?

This thought shocked her and Catherine grabbed her big stomach in fear.  
"Come one," Henry said and took her arm, but Catherine violently shook it off. This very idea was too outrageous to allow Henry to continue touching her.  
"Don't touch me," she irritably growled and went up the steep stone steps without his help.

Claude was waiting for her at the top of the landing. Her little girl, who wasn't that little anymore. As soon as she reached the landing, the princess stormed towards her and threw herself into her mother's arms.  
"Maman! I almost couldn't believe it when the Reverend Mother told me that you would pick me up personally," these words gushed out of Claude and Catherine used her eulogy to take a closer look at her daughter. Her curly-headed little girl had grown into a little lady. A beautiful teenager.  
"Papa? You're here as well?" Her father's greeting sounded less enthusiastic what gave Catherine a sense of satisfaction.  
"Yes, my child. I think it's time to bring my family back together," Henry explained, as his children gathered around his wife.


	24. Chapter 24

Since both Margot and Henri still looked very frightened and couldn't be calmed by their nanny, Catherine got on her knees in front of her youngest children. She took their small hands into her own and spoke to them in a soft voice, trying to reassure them while Claude and Charles greeted each other.  
When Catherine tried to rise again, the world began to spin all of a sudden. But before she could even wonder if her wobbly legs could carry her weight, Henry had already hurried at her side to support her.  
"I think you've had enough excitement for one day. Nostradamus, I want you to examine her. Make sure my wife and my child are alright." Henry ordered in a harsh tone and yet he patiently helped Catherine getting back on her feet.

"Take your time," he advised her. Now his voice sounded less harsh but rather worried.  
"Henry, give it a break," Catherine shook off her husband's hand and took Nostradamus' arm instead, who guided her inside the convent with a serious expression on his face.

"So how long have you been having contractions?" Her bearded seer asked as soon as they were alone, whereupon Catherine stopped in her tracks to stare at him in surprise. "You think I wouldn't notice? You may be able to fool your husband, but not me, Catherine," Nostradamus explained and his intense gaze seemed unbribable.  
"These are premonitory pains. No big deal. Nothing I haven't experienced before." Catherine played her condition down with a wave of her hand, but Nostradamus shook his head in the negative.  
"That may be true, but only at a later state of your pregnancy," he reminded her.

The two of them walked through the great hall of the convent and were greeted by the Mother Superior. The elderly woman showed them the way to Claude's chamber, where Catherine intended to rest. Once they were alone in the sparse room, the Queen of France gave in to Nostradamus' urging and let her friend examine her, for she herself was worried about her unborn child's welfare.

"You are right. Premonitory pains. Catherine, you have to start looking after yourself. You need rest. Or do you want to risk a premature birth?" With growing concern Nostradamus paced up and down while his Queen re-dressed.  
"Do you really think I would go to extremes if I had another choice? But Henry literally forces me to take action. And how on earth did he persuade you to accompany him?"  
"You wanted me to monitor his recovery, which I did. But now the both of us think that I'd better stay at your side until you give birth."

Catherine smoothed her skirts and rose to approach the tall man.  
"I do appreciate your concern, my dear old friend. But how am I supposed to protect this unborn child and at the same time keep my husband from..."  
"What are you trying to keep me from doing, Catherine?"  
Unnoticed by his wife, Henry had entered the room and interrupted her. "Leave us alone," he told Nostradamus who bowed his head in Catherine's direction and left.

Her husband's presence made Catherine sigh out loud.  
"Quite obviously it's impossible to stop you from anything, Henry," she admitted tiredly and slowly walked to the window to look out into the convent's garden.  
"Why Italy, Catherine? I know that you wanted to bring some distance between us, but isn't Chenonceau far enough for you? Does the very idea that we are living in the same country bother you so much?"

Her husband's words sounded unusually sad and Catherine thought she even heard resignation in his voice.  
"What are you talking about? It is you who wants to get rid of me! Again," she added indignantly and interlaced her arms in front of her chest. She resisted the desperate urge to turn to him, for she was afraid of what she would read in his gaze.  
"Getting rid of you? Catherine, that was weeks, no, months ago! Do you still resent the things I said and did in my delusional state? I admit, some of them were unforgivable, but I thought I made it more than clear in my letters that I regret what has happened and that I don't want to get rid of you. Quite the opposite, I want you back!"

Catherine couldn't take it anymore and drove around to face her husband.  
"So you're denying that you have written a letter to the Vatican?" She outright asked him and tried to read in his face if he had the audacity to lie to her.  
"No, I'm not denying it. I wrote letters to the Vatican."  
Upon hearing this, Catherine's heart shrunk. It hurt how frank and nonchalant he sounded while admitting that he had sought the Pope's support. And she couldn't think of any other reason except a new attempt to annul their marriage.  
Nevertheless, she had to know. She had to hear him confessing it with her very own ears.  
"Letters!? Because of our marriage?" she asked and internally prepared herself for the deathblow.

"Yes, Catherine. And I wonder how I ever thought that I could keep a secret from you. You have your spies everywhere, I should have known better."  
"Would it make a difference? When were you going to tell me, Henry? Before or after I give birth to this baby?" She pointed at her huge belly.  
"I can't believe that you would even consider this while I'm carrying your child! And what about your flowery assurances that you love me? How can you beg me for forgiveness and plea for my return in one week and in the next moment you ask the Pope to annul our marriage?" Catherine was working herself into a frenzy and glared at Henry angrily.

"What makes you think that I want to annul our marriage?"  
Her husband moved towards her, but then he stopped as if fearing that one more step could prompt Catherine to murder him with the sizzling look in her eyes.  
"Don't insult me. Isn't that what you asked the Pope to do in your letters?", she shouted at him. Her baby acknowledged her fit of rage with a powerful kick.  
Instantly her hands went to her belly.  
"My love, are you all right?" Henry must have noticed her discomfort, for regardless of the consequences he rushed to her side and grabbed her arm.  
"Don't change the subject," Catherine hissed but couldn't stop her husband from gently but firmly directing her towards one of the armchairs and pushing her down into the soft cushions.

To her surprise, Henry got on his knees in front of her and reached for her hands.  
"I don't know how you got the idea, but I didn't ask for an annulment," he explained calmly while squeezing her right hand.  
Catherine couldn't even muster the strength to withdraw her hand from his grasp. His words sounded too good to be true and she didn't want to be taken in by an illusion.

"Why else did you write to the Pope?" she asked him quietly and fought against the burgeoning hope that raised in her. She couldn't explain why she didn't want him to give up on their marriage. He was a terrible husband, chasing after every skirt, and his qualities as a father left much to be desired.

But no matter how difficult it was for her to admit, she wasn't only concerned about losing her crown and the power it entailed. She didn't want to lose him.  
Henry, her husband, the father of her children and the man she still loved against her better judgement.

"To be honest, I planned this as a surprise and I don't even know if Rome will support my request." Henry paused while Catherine looked him up and down impatiently. "I asked the Pope for his approval for a second wedding."  
Terrified by what she had just heard, Catherine pushed her husband away, causing Henry to lose his footing and landing on his behind.  
"Polygamy! In heaven's name, that's even worse than an annulment! Henry, have you taken leave of your senses? How do you think the Pope will react? You are a catholic King and..."

Henry picked himself up again and tried to stop Catherine, who slowly but surely got worked up about this situation.  
"No, listen to me! I want to re-marry YOU, Catherine. I want to renew our wedding vows. Before God, before the Vatican and before the people of France. Call it a proof of my love for you. Besides, a woman of your appeal and temperament fully covers my need of a wife."

Catherine didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Only Henry was able to hide a declaration of love behind some silly joke.  
"Now – all of a sudden – you tell me that you love me... just because it suits you right now?" She couldn't help but protest.  
"That wasn't all of a sudden" Henry corrected her. "I said a lot of terrible things when the poison of that treasonous Bourbon clouded my mind and befouled my blood. But I was speaking the truth when I told you that I love you, Catherine. I realized it the moment you were supposed to be beheaded. You think I spared you only because you carry our little prince under your heart?" At the mention of their unborn child, Henry placed his hand on her belly.  
"But that's not true! I was unable of raising my arm and giving the order to the deathsman. When Nostradamus finally stormed in, I felt nothing but relief. But it was the moment in the tower that tipped the scales. When I found you on your knees in front of Diane – not knowing if I made it in time - I feared that my heart would stop. It would have been so easy, Catherine. So very easy. I would just had to stand there, waiting and watching you die by your own hand. That was the most frightening moment of my life, my darling."

Catherine only remembered fragments of the events that took place in the tower on that fateful morning. Everything had happened so fast and her despair and the fear for her children's lifes had made any rational thought impossible.  
But what she remembered were Henry's arms. Arms that had held her trembling body. Arms that had forced her to throw up the deathly pill. Arms that had carried her away from this terrible place.  
"You are my life, Catherine. My Queen. And so here I am to ask you: Do you want to return? Return to court, return to my side, be my wife again? France needs you. But what is much more important: I need you!" His emotional confession made her struggle with words.

"I don't know how to react to this, Henry. If what you're saying is true, what has happened during all these years? What about Diane, what about Kenna and all the women you've preferred over me, again and again? How can you expect me to believe your words?" It was not her wish to unnecessarily complicate things. Especially when Henry was finally saying the things she had longed to hear from him all her life. But her skeptical heart warned her to remain careful.

She had lost count of how many times after passionate nights of frenetic lovemaking Henry had promised her that things between them would change. And every time the cold and cruel reality had put the lie to his words. At some point she had stopped believing him. For reasons of self-protection.

"I was stupid, Catherine. Young and naive. I thought that just because I could have them all, I needed to prove it to myself and to the world. And I was hurt. Hurt by your behaviour and by your rejection." Before Catherine could protest, Henry raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Today I understand. You were scared and you weren't pregnant. It hurt that you couldn't find comfort in my affirmation that I didn't mind. Now I know that it wasn't my reaction you feared but that of everyone else. Catherine, I would have held on to you forever if you hadn't withdrawn yourself. If you had allowed yourself to share your worries and your fears with me. Maybe I would have been able to take them from you."

"Probably not," she said in a sad voice and once again she lived through the fears and worries of that young, supposedly barren wife at that time.  
"Probably not," Henry agreed with her after a short moment of hesitation.  
"It is said that wisdom only comes with age. Catherine, I now understand some things and today I recognize the mistakes I have made. I wanted to have a simple and uncomplicated life without knowing that the complex and complicated human being I have married was worth all the efforts. You are the strongest person I know. That's why I ask you now: If you still have strength for a new beginning in you, will you give me another chance? I want you to come back. Because you are my Queen. But I will not force you being my wife once again. This is what I ask you to be by your own choice."

The open, almost vulnerable way Henry looked at her hit Catherine right at the bottom of her heart. Oh, how much she longed for just saying "yes". But caution was still the predominant feeling in her.  
"How long would it last, Henry," she asked full of doubts. "I wouldn't tolerate any other woman. Not anymore," she said in a definite tone, knowing full well that she was denying him a centuries-old right, allowing Kings to entertain mistresses.  
"My dear wife, why only did I know that this point would be of utmost relevance to you?"

Was it just her imagination, or did Henry actually seem amused?  
"Well, at least my objection seems to cheer you up," she countered. Henry rose and went over to his jacket he had previously taken off and thrown over a chair. With a ceremonious expression on his face he reached into the pocket and revealed a pack of densely written pages bearing his royal coat of arms.  
"Here, paragraphs 5 and 13 should interest you the most."

With skepticism in her brown eyes, Catherine inspected the papers Henry handed her in a solemn way.  
"A matrimonial agreement?" she asked in irritation after studying the heading.  
"Not just any matrimonial agreement but ours if you want to accept it," Henry corrected her and his answer did not exactly help to minimize her confusion.

In paragraphs 1 to 4 she found no difference in the wording compared to the contract she had signed decades ago. But when hey eyes flew over the 5. paragraph, her eyes widened.  
Where her title had previously been "Queen Consort", her titel was now "Queen" with no restriction.  
Henry, who had taken a seat next to her in the meantime, used her distracted state to stroke her belly like he had so many times today.  
"Read paragraph 13," he whispered into her ear.

This passage deprived Catherine of speech. The original paragraph had listed her numerous marital duties and Henry's liberally interpreted rights as her husband and King. Now it simply said: "Both spouses are bound to be faithful to each other."

"Henry?" She couldn't bring more than his name over her trembling lips.  
"I am aware that I may not deserve another chance. And that I have to give you the right reason and also some admissions on my part, if you're ever willing to commit to me. I hope this revised agreement has the necessary force of expression."

Her husband took his hands from her belly and rose. Only to go down on his knees in front of her. Then he looked up at her with love veiling his eyes.  
"Catherine. My Queen, mother of my children, my beloved wife. Are you willing to renew the covenant of marriage that unites us forever? Will you give me the chance to be a better husband and make me a better person? I love you with all my heart. Please Catherine, be my wife again."

Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined such a turn. Being in a state of shock she could do nothing but stare at her husband kneeling in front of her, who seemed to become more insecure from second to second.  
"Catherine?"  
"I don't know what to say, Henry."  
"How about yes?" Henry tried his luck and in his eyes she could not only see love but also dwindling hope. And before Catherine knew it, she brought a shaky "Yes!" over her lips.

Her answer prompted Henry who was still on his knees to reduce the distance between them. Then he placed his arms around her and pressed his face against her pregnant belly.  
"Thank you. Thank you, my darling! I love you," he mumbled and some of his words were swallowed by the fabric of her skirts. Yet his words had enough power to bring tears to Catherine's eyes.  
"I love you too," she whispered, grasping his neck with her fingers in a helpless gesture. They remained in this position, letting the power of their feelings turn their world upside down.

A strong kick from inside her belly tore the couple back into the here and now.  
"Was that...?"  
"Yes, our son," she finished Henry's sentence and watched him bringing some distance between them to look at the fruit of his loins in awe.  
"So do you think it's a boy, too?" he asked happily and tried to encourage his child to kick him again by putting light pressure on her belly. A favor his baby promptly did.  
"Yes," Catherine explained mildly and put her hand over his.  
Together they waited for their baby's next reaction.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Henry looked down in awe at Catherine's swollen stomach. The baby that was growing inside of her was his. His own flesh and blood. This thought was nearly incomprehensible. A new son whose birth would soon crown their love. And even if Catherine was carrying a girl, he would love her just as much even though he was still pretty sure that she was pregnant with a boy.  
"I should go and look after the children", Catherine's words tore Henry out of his deliberations. Before he could even react, his wife freed herself from his grasp and rose. What had once looked very elegant and effortless now seemed slow and awkward due to her growing girth.  
"My love, the children are fine. The only thing you should be worried about right now is your own health and our little one's welfare."

Henry rose as well and scolded himself a mindless idiot.  
Hadn't he promised Nostradamus to take care of his wife and to make sure that she found some rest after this day's physical exertions? A promise he had not kept so far.  
"Why don't you lie down for a while?" he asked and pointing at the bed in the corner of the small chamber.  
Catherine didn't answer right away. She rather looked back and forth between the bed and her husband. So Henry interpreted her lack of protest as her silent approval and gently directed her towards the bed.

"That does indeed sound tempting."  
Relieved at her yielding, Henry pulled back the blanket and held Catherine's upper arm to assist her with sitting down.  
"Would you like something to drink?" he offered and watched his wife argus-eyed while she sank against the pillows in exhaustion and ran her hands over her pregnant belly.  
"Maybe some tea?", his wife suggested.  
Henry nodded in agreement and leaned down to place a tender kiss on her forehead. Then he left the room.

When Henry came back, he found Catherine stretched out on the bed. Absent-minded she was rubbing her swollen stomach, whispering soft words only their child could hear. She was obviously unaware of his return.  
His wife had taken off her shoes and Henry stared in fascination at her small, slightly swollen feet before he made himself noticeable by clearing his throat. Without hesitation he sat down next to her and watched Catherine laboriously straightening up to reach for the cup he held out to her.  
"Be careful, it's very hot," he warned her.  
Catherine first took a smell at it before she started sipping her tea.

After she had finished, Henry took the cup and put it down, then he let himself fall onto the mattress right next to her.  
"What exactly are you doing?" Catherine asked and stared down at him in wonder.  
"Can't you see? I'll keep you company," he succinctly explained and leaned on his left arm to get a better look at her.  
"Henry, I was actually going to lie down and get some rest."  
Catherine's month dropped into a sweet little frown.  
"And so you shall, babe," he agreed with her and invitingly tapped at the mattress next to him to signal her to lie down next to him.

After a short moment's hesitation, Catherine gave in to his request.  
And Henry didn't give his wife a chance to move to the edge of the mattress for he instantaneously pulled her into his arms. Then he buried his nose in her soft hair while his hands slid to the middle of her body on their own account.  
"Thank you," he whispered into her ear and began to gently caress her belly.  
"What for?" Catherine sounded tired and Henry felt her body relax under his caresses until she closed her eyes in exhaustion.  
"For giving your outrageous husband another chance. But I fear that I'm in desperate need of your guidance in order to turn me into a reliable husband."

To Henry's surprise she placed her much smaller hand on top of his.  
"But don't you count on me making it easy for you," she muttered sleepily and prompted Henry to chuckle in amusement.  
"Not even for a second," he assured her.  
Catherine's only reaction was a low, affirmative hum. A moment later, his wife was asleep.

xxx

Five days later, two big carriages – accompanied by a royal cavalcade of Valois and Medici soldiers - arrived at French court.  
"Home sweet home, I thought we'd never get here," Henry said while getting out of the coach. Then he reached for his wife to assist her getting out as well.  
"It was you who insisted on making multiple stops," Catherine replied, but instead of fixing him with her infamous death glare as she had so often in the past, she now graced him with a brilliant smile.  
"I am merely following Nostradamus' instructions. You still need to take it slow, my love. And several shorter stages are less tiring than one long journey."  
Even though Catherine was back on solid ground, Henry refrained from letting go of her. He rather put his arm around her waist in a gesture that was both supportive and likewise possessive.  
"Two stages would have been sufficient enough."

It was just like Catherine – always wanting to have the last word. Henry answered her with a big grin of his own. In the end her unbending and combative nature was one of the reasons why he loved his wife after all.

Out of the corner of his eye Henry saw his children rushing past them towards the main entrance of the castle. They had been sitting in the second carriage and were obviously eager to move their feet. Only Margot, who couldn't keep up with her siblings, fell back. Halfway along the road, his youngest finally stopped and turned to face her parents with the most disappointed look on her pretty little face. Then her lower lip started to tremble.  
Henry watched her seeking her mother's gaze and a moment later she raised her short arms.  
"Up!" she demanded.  
"Oh dear me, sweetling," Catherine sighed and took a step forward to approach Margot. But Henry beat her to it and went down on his knees in front of his daughter.  
"Your Maman isn't able to carry you right now, Margot. She's already carrying your little brother or sister all day. But would you like your Daddy to carry you?" Henry suggested and watched how his daughter's facial expression changed while weighing up his suggestion. Then she came to a decision and hesitantly nodded her head.  
"Okay."

Smiling gently, Henry ran his fingers through her golden curls. Then he rose with the child in his arms. Like before, he placed his other arm around his wife's waist. Catherine regarded him with a smile on her own lips.

Since Henry had failed to send a messenger to announce their upcoming arrival, a flurry of activity took place as soon as they entered the castle. Servants, members of his privy council and Catherine's ladies-in-waiting rushed towards them and Henry noticed with concern how the mirth vanished from his wife's face, making room for annoyance.  
"Mother, you're back!" It was only when Francis showed up that Catherine's facial expression changed again. "And I guess it's almost time," the young prince added, after he had embraced his mother and was now openly staring at her remarkably grown middle.

Henry decided to give mother and son the opportunity to have a private chat and chased away all servants as well as Catherine's ladies. Then he faced the members of his privy council with a sense of duty.  
Even though he would prefer spending day and night with his wife - now that he had won her back - he was still aware of his responsibilities as a sovereign. And by early evening at latest he would have his wife back and all to himself. For Henry was hell-bent to share chambers with her from now on.  
Looking at the child in his arms, Henry made up his mind and just took Margot along. The girl seemed fascinated by his medals and occupied herself by playing with the heavy chains on his way to the map room. He deliberately ignored the confused looks the members of his privy council exchanged.

xxx

Henry only returned to the royal wing of the castle after the sun had set. He was hungry and the dust from their long journey still stuck to his body and his clothes. And he longed for his wife.  
From the conversation he had had with Francis after meeting his councilors, Henry knew that Catherine had already retired to her chambers.  
Because of his obligations he had not been able to join his family for dinner. A neglect he regretted, contrary to his expectations.  
"Go get me something to eat," he instructed the servant who nodded dutifully and opened the door to Henry's chambers for him. "My wife has already turned in. Find out if she's asleep."

The last few nights, he and Catherine had shared a bed and he intended to continue with this arrangement in the future. And in case she has fallen asleep in her chambers, he would have dinner in his own bed chamber and prepare himself for bed here. Later on he would just sneak into her bed without disturbing her. For he was not willing to give up his place at her side ever again, now that he had won her back.  
"No, she isn't asleep." Instead of the servant it was Catherine who answered his question. She was sitting in a large tub that had been set up in the middle of his chamber. Hot humid air that smelled of wild lavender hit his nostrils.

"Catherine!? You are taking a bath? Here?" Henry was unable to hide his amazement. Curiously, he approached the bathtub.  
"Your readiness of mind and your capability of quick reasoning never cease to amaze me." Catherine's voice oozed with mockery, but the sharpness that so often had accompanied her words in the past was missing. This prompted Henry to bent over the rim of the tub and reach for his wife's chin to kiss her hello. When he released her again, his attention involuntarily wandered over her naked body, that was completely covered with foam to his chagrin.

"Neither does your wicked tongue", he replied in amusement and took off his doublet. "Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy to find my wife bare ass naked in my chambers, but why are you here? I thought that after months of absence you would prefer your own bedchamber over mine."

"I do. But unfortunately my chambers have turned into a dusty and cold mausoleum. Not even my bed has fresh linen. Yours, on the other hand...", Catherine paused for a moment to look over at his bed, before she continued: "...looks very warm and comfortable."  
"Mi casa e su casa," Henry generously offered her with a chuckle.

He liked the way how naturally Catherine engrossed this room, almost as if marking her territory, now that things were significantly changing between the two of them.  
A fact he was more than happy to acknowledge. For he had already started worrying that she might distance herself from him once they returned.  
However, quite the opposite was true in this case.

xxxx

I'm sorry you had to wait some time. And I hope you like this new chapter. Girls, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. We're sailing towards our happy end. ;o)

Thank you so much for reading and once and again taking some time to leave a comment. You're the best!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the waiting time. Due to the fact that I'm juggling with 6 stories at the same time, some updates may take longer than others. But I hope that this long and steamy chapter will make up for the waiting time. 
> 
> Many thanks for reading and for your reviews! Take care and stay safe, my dears.

Chapter 26

"Mi casa e su casa."  
Was it just Catherine's imagination, or did Henry's voice sound more husky than usual? With watchful eyes she scrutinized her husband. Though he resisted her gaze, his posture seemed to get tenser under her intense stare.  
"Is there anything else you might need? I could arrange a light dinner or order herbal tea for you." The insecurity in Henry's appearance combined with his desire to satisfy her every need, put a warm smile on the Queen of France's lips.  
She enjoyed his attention, even though she would never openly admit it.  
"No, thank you. I have already sent for my ladies and for some tea," she replied and watched her husband brushing his heavy boots off his feet.  
"Well, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."  
"For a start you could open the window," Catherine said and placed her hands on the edge of the tub. Then she pushed herself up a bit in order to escape the hot water. She loved a long and hot soak in lavender-scented water, especially when she was with child. Today, however, the heat of the water affected her more than usual.

"Are you all right, Catherine?" Henry asked in alarm and hesitantly looked back and forth between the window and his wife.  
"I'm okay, I just need some fresh air." At first he hesitated, but then Henry nodded in agreement and went over to the window. He did as he was told without letting her out of his sight as if fearing she still might suffer a sudden dizzy spell. A few seconds later a gentle breeze caressed Catherine's heated skin, prompting her to let out a sigh of relief. The cool air stroked over her damp skin and gave her goose bumps that were followed by a pleasant shiver.  
"Are you sure you're okay? You had me worried for a second or two."  
"The water is just a bit too hot. Henry, I'm not at death's door, I'm pregnant," she explained matter-of-factly while stroking her belly that had grown to a substantial size. Her movement involuntarily drew Henry's attention lower, to the middle of her body.

"I can see that," he whispered and only now did Catherine realize that she was presenting her husband with an unhindered view of her bare upper body. With a suppressed scream she let herself drop back into the tub, causing the water to spill over on both sides of the barrel.  
"Catherine!" Henry cried in concern while Catherine was fighting hard against the desire to plunge into her bubble bath in hope of drowning her sense of shame by doing so. For the sake of her hair - she didn't want to get it wet mere minutes before going to bed - she resisted the urge and was content to make sure that the foam was covering her nakedness adequately.

Henry and she might have reconciled and decided to give their relationship a new – a last - try, but she feared that her body, bloated from her pregnancy, was a sight that would put his love to test.

"Are you feeling dizzy? Shall I send for Nostradamus?" There was a slight hint of panic in her husband's voice and she briefly considered actually sending Henry out in order to fetch her seer - just to get rid of him for the time being. But then she changed her mind and shook her head in denial. She did not want to worry him any more than he already was.  
"No, that is not necessary. It's just the heat." Catherine decided to tell him a white lie and closed her eyes to escape her husband's worried eyes.  
"Then I suggest we shall get you out of the hot water at this point. Come on, I will help you", she heard Henry's voice mere seconds later. Catherine opened her eyes in irritation and found him standing right beside the tub, staring down at her. He had taken a large bathing towel from the sideboard and was holding it out to her, an inviting smile on his handsome face.

"Henry, I have already sent for my maids and ladies. They should be here shortly. Why don't you see if..." She did not get a chance to finish her sentence for her husband interrupted her.  
"I might as well assist you." Catherine stared at the towel he was offering her, then she let her gaze wander to Henry's dark eyes, eyes that were looking at her in an almost pleading way. And despite the concern, that was literally written all over his face, there also lay an expression of utmost determination on it.  
"Alright, since you probably won't give it a rest… But turn around," she sighed and pointed towards the window. Now it was her husband who gave off a deep sigh. But after a moment's hesitation he complied with her request and turned his back on her.

When she was convinced that he was not spying on her through the reflection of the window, Catherine braced herself against the edge of the tub to pull herself up. But this time her arms could not support her weight. The heat must have affected her more than she originally thought. Her second attempt to get herself into an upright position by sheer willpower also failed. Her burgeoning frustration over her own inadequacy commingled with a feeling of helplessness. A feeling she loathed.  
"Are you ready?" Henry asked her and his words goaded her to try again with all her might. This time she was able to push herself up at the edge of the tub, but when she tried to arise, her arms gave way under her full weight and with a splashing noise she fell back on her ass right in the middle of the tub.  
"Catherine!" Despite her request to give her some privacy, Henry drove around and rushed to her side.  
"I can't get out," she admitted in a fragile voice, trying to cover up her misery with the most dignified expression she could evoke in her position. The grin that fell on Henry's face while gaping at her, instantly enraged Catherine.

"Go fetch my maids, will you! They will help me", she urged him in an icy tone.  
"That's not necessary," Henry said in exhilaration and stepped behind her. Suddenly his hands touched her shoulders, softly caressing her wet skin. Then she felt them move down and grabbing her from under her armpits. "On three."  
And before Catherine could think too much about his intentions, did her husband count out loud and on three he pulled her into an upright position with a gentle tug.  
His hands, that felt big, warm and powerful - embraced her body from behind and held her tightly in place once she was standing.  
Just when Catherine was about to free herself, did Henry's right hand stroke down her body and lay itself on her swollen belly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  
"Henry... you can let go of me now." This was an order, not a request, although spoken with a slightly trembling voice.

Henry's presence triggered an inner conflict in her. She longed for his touch, loved how safe and secure she felt in his arms, but on the other hand she was afraid of discovering a sign of repulse or even disgust in his eyes. When the time would come for Henry and her to become lovers again, she wanted to feel beautiful and desirable. Not like a bloated whale who couldn't even get out of the bathtub without help. His fascination with her baby bump still irritated her, but she had accepted it in the meantime and in secret she even enjoyed his caresses. But usually she was wearing clothes and it made her feel deeply ashamed that this was the first time since what felt like an eternity that Henry saw her naked. Why now of all times? In fact, he had never - at any point in their marriage - seen her naked while being pregnant.

"How beautiful you are," Henry whispered in her ear and his breath tickled her wet skin.  
"More likely fat," she contradicted and her reaction caused Henry to gently turn her around. As soon as she was facing him, Henry placed his fingers around her chin and with gentle pressure he forced her to look him right in the eyes.  
"You're not fat. You're pregnant. With my child," he corrected her, "I don't think that I've enjoyed a more beautiful sight ever before. You are carrying the life the two of us have created. Looking at you makes me grateful, proud and extremely happy." To give his words more meaning, Henry drew her closer and placed a kiss on her trembling lips while wrapping his arms around her body, giving her support on the slippery ground she was standing on.

Catherine closed her eyes and surrendered to his kiss. She loved kissing Henry, loved the way his tongue always teased hers and how good it felt to be held by him. When he finally released her again, Catherine's breathing was heavy and fast and despite the fact that she was standing here before her husband - soaking wet and butt naked - heat started to rise in her. A completely different kind of heat than the one she had experienced mere minutes ago. One that made the blood in her veins boil and that set her in a state of sensual frenzy.  
Henry grasped her face with his fingers and with a smile on his lips, he bent down to kiss her one more time before wrapping her in the towel and carefully lifting her out of the tub.  
"Are you cold, shall I close the window? I don't want you to catch a cold." Once again, worry had taken over her husband and Catherine shook her head in denial. She was rather afraid of bursting into flames if Henry continued to kiss her.

Instead of setting her down right where he was standing, Henry carried her over to the back of his chamber. There, beside his bed, he set her down and with meticulous precision he started to dry off every inch of her heated skin. Paying special attention to her breasts and her swollen belly. When - instead of the towel - his fingers brushed over her sensitive nipples, a soft gasp escaped Catherine's lips. By the smile on Henry's face she could tell that it hadn't escaped his attention, but he continued his work without acknowledging her reaction. And when he reached her legs, he asked her to sit on the edge of the bed. Once she was sitting, her husband got down on his knees in front of her. He grabbed her right foot and let his fingertips dance over the sole of her foot in a teasing way. In any other situation the gentle tickling sensation would have provoked a giggle, but now his touch only caused a wave of burning desire to wash all over her body.

Caught between shame and lust, Catherine watched her husband first dry off her right, then her left leg. His eyes remained firmly fixed on hers. And though she knew that mainly care, not sexual desire was dictating his touches, she could not help but excessively enjoy it. She had always longed to be treated in such a loving way by Henry, had wished for his hands on her naked skin during long and sleepless nights, caressing her body until she was finally able to fall asleep and at the same time driving away the demons of her past that were still haunting her.

And after last week's reconciliation Henry had started doing exactly this. Night after night. He had held her and given her the warmth and love that she had had to renounce for far too long.  
But all of a sudden, that wasn't enough. Not anymore. She had to feel him, touch him, absorb his closeness in order to feel alive again.  
"Love me," These words burst out of her so unexpectedly that Henry just stared at her in confusion.  
"I do love you, sweetheart," he assured her and slid towards her on his knees, gently kissing her forehead. His reaction prompted her to shake her head. She grabbed his face and directed it lower until her nose touched his and she could feel Henry's warm breath against her lips.  
"No," she determinedly said and kissed her husband. Her passion unbalanced her husband slightly, but he did not disappoint, for he returned her kiss with comparable passion.

When their mouths parted, both Catherine and Henry were out of breath.  
"That's not what I mean. I want you to make love to me," she whispered against his lips. Upon hearing these clear words, Henry put some distance between them, observing her thoroughly.  
"You are pregnant, darling," he unnecessarily reminded her and seemed unsure about how to react to her request.  
"Yes, with your child. Or are you telling me that you don't remember how our little prince has been conceived?" Catherine knew that she was provoking Henry. And that was her intention.

The inner struggle that was taking place between Henry's mind and his libido was clearly written all over his handsome face. Therefore, Catherine grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forcefully ripped it off his shoulders until the sound of tearing fabric could be heard. With the most contented smile on her lips, the Queen let her hands slide over his muscular chest.  
"Catherine, I don't think that this is a good idea." Henry's objection was drowned out by a groan when his wife leaned over and encircled his right nipple with the tip of her tongue.  
"I beg to differ. This is actually a brilliant idea," she whispered against his chest and ran her teeth over his skin, eliciting another moan.  
"Darling..." All Henry could utter was a hoarse rasping sound while Catherine increased her efforts.

"You said I'm beautiful," she whispered.  
"Beautiful indeed, but..."  
"No but. Do you think I'm desirable?" Catherine pressed herself against her husband's chest until he could feel her breasts and the curve of her belly against his body.  
"Of course, that's completely out of question, Catherine." A veil of lust lay itself over Henry's dilated eyes, even though he still seemed to be lost in a futile struggle against reason.  
"Then I do not know what's stopping you, my love." Her right hand wrapped itself around his neck to pull him down for another kiss.  
"I don't want to hurt you. Or the little one," Henry finally admitted and his objection let her pause. Slowly she lowered her head until her forehead rested against his.  
"You won't hurt us, Henry," she assured him. Then she reached for his hand and guided it to her left breast. "You can touch me."

Hesitant at first, his fingertips glided over her swollen breasts until her nipples rose to firm little buds. Now it was up to Catherine to moan. Spurred on by her reaction, Henry gradually put his aloofness aside. His touch became more demanding and the way he kneaded her breasts got firmer.  
"They are very sensitive," Catherine explained without a trace of reproach, whereupon Henry's grip loosened and his touch became softer.  
"Does it feel good?", he asked her after a few minutes of tenderly caressing her upper body.  
Catherine wasn't able to bring more than an ecstatic "Mhmmm" over her lips, but this sound answered Henry's question well enough. His lips found hers again, warm and soft. Their tongues played together, teasingly dueling each other until Catherine feared she might burst from tension.

When Henry finally let go of her and stared at her with the expression of naked lust in his eyes, her body started to vibrate in joyful anticipation. His wonderful masculine flavor still lingered on her lips and when Catherine provocatively ran her tongue over her lower lip , a deep growl escapes Henry's throat that made her shiver. With erratic movements they stripped his clothes off his body and mere seconds later Henry stood before her in his birthday suit.

But when he looked up at her she saw indecision flashing up in his gaze.  
"Dear me, Henry, if you ...", Catherine did not get a chance to carry on with her protest, for Henry placed his hand in a loving gesture on her swollen belly to stop her.  
"It's not the "if" but rather the "how", that I'm wondering about." His appeasement sparked a soft smile on Catherine's lips. Until now she hadn't even wasted a thought about the "how".  
But Henry was right, he for sure would not be able to lie on top of her.

"I think I have an idea" her husband said after a moment's consideration and tenderly stroked her cheek. Then he climbed on the mattress behind her and beckoned her to move over to the upper part of the bed with him. With his back against the wooden headboard and his legs slightly spread, Henry held out his arms for her. "Come here," he lured her over.  
Irritated by the position he had chosen, she let her husband pull her into his arms nevertheless and trustingly leaned against his strong chest.  
"This feels nice, but I don't see how this position... oh." Henry had placed his left hand on her baby bump. His other hand, however, pushed her legs apart and slid down between her thighs, touching her in the most intimate and sinful way. And while his expert fingers slowly but surely drove her crazy, Henry took turns in either kissing her neck or nibbling on her earlobe. And she could feel his throbbing manhood poking against her lower back.

Caught up in a state of absolute bliss, Catherine closed her eyes and gave herself over to her husband's touch. Quivering with desire, she pressed her body against Henry and when a massive wave of pleasure finally washed her away, her fingernails dug themselves into his thighs. Panting heavily, Catherine gasped for air while Henry's hands kept on caressing her swollen breasts.

"Darling, move forward," Henry whispered against her neck once her breathing had become normal again. Sighting blissfully, Catherine did as she was told and turned her head in his direction. She blushed at the sight of the self-satisfied grin that lightened up his entire face. But before she could worry too much about his reaction, Henry grabbed her neck and pulled her near to steal another kiss. This kiss lasted several minutes while their mouths merged together. Meanwhile, Henry's hands tampered with her pinned-up hair, freeing her curls from the needles until they fell over her shoulders in gentle waves.

Eventually Henry turned Catherine into a sideward position. Then he dropped down onto the mattress, sweeping her along. She instantaneously felt his hot body wrap her up from behind. With one hand on her hip, Henry pulled her pelvis back until she could feel his erect penis gently poking her behind. She would only have to slightly spread her thighs in order to accept his member, without her belly getting in the way of their lovemaking.  
"You'll tell me if anything feels uncomfortable, yes?" Henry instructed her and simultaneously caressed her hip in the most affectionate way averting Catherine from blaming him for his exaggerated concern. Slowly his hand wandered to her midsection to gently rub her swollen belly.

Then his hand slid lower until it disappeared between her thighs, prompting her to lift her upper leg and with her back arched, Catherine pressed herself against his lower body. Henry took her reaction as an invitation and a few seconds later she felt the head of his penis at her opening. With nerve-wracking slowness, Henry penetrated her. Once his shaft was buried inside her body to the hilt, Henry paused. Only his left hand was moving, tenderly stroking her chest.  
"Henry," Catherine whispered in despair. She could no longer bear this sweet agony, thus she stuck her lower body towards his direction, wordlessly begging him to start moving. At her urging, her husband slowly withdrew from her, only to re-enter her a second later. In a slow, sensual rhythm, Henry started to make love to her and with a moist trail he ran his tongue across her throat. His hand was fondling her right breast by first kneading her delicate flesh. Then he encircled her erect nipple with his fingertips, rubbing it with light pressure.

His caresses, each sensual touch, triggered a new heat wave that rolled over her burning body. Catherine closed her eyes and surrendered to his hands and his body. He played her like a delicate instrument and made strings resound from deep inside her that had been silenced for too long. Never before had she felt such an intense connection between them, never had Henry been more tender or gentle with her. And yet his thrusts were steady and powerful, making her forget who she was.  
The world around her lost its meaning, declined to the King's bedchamber, to Henry's bed, and to the two of them - merging together in perfect harmony.

When his fingers rubbed her nipple in a particularly nifty way, she could feel a few drops of milk starting to leak out. They were slowly running down her breast and all over his fingers. To her surprise, Henry released her and brought his fingers to his mouth.  
"Mm." His reaction was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.  
After tasting her, Henry's penis slipped out of her body. But before Catherine could protest, her husband grabbed her by the hip and rolled her onto her back.  
"I want to see you," he explained, kneeling above her and staring at her with hungry eyes. Then he bent down, and his hot mouth clasped around her left nipple. Without hesitation, Henry started sucking on it in all eagerness. Feeling his lips and teeth on her nipple, gently tugging and nibbling, increased her excitement to infinity and beyond. But it were his fingers, that sent her over the verge of ecstasy once again. They grasped her vulva in a possessive way, mercilessly teasing her swollen clitoris. Twitching wildly, Catherine came a second time while Henry's fingers kept on fucking her.

Even before she could recover from her orgasm, Henry straightened up and pushed her legs up. Then he slid into her once again. His upper body was holding Catherine in position, keeping her legs up in the air. Slowly, he increased the speed of his thrusts, loving her with deep strokes that were accompanied by a loud groan when Catherine tightly clenched the inner walls of her tunnel. Henry's dark eyes, veiled with lust, were fixed on hers, sending her messages of love, a testimonial of the arousal she was able to evoke.

And yet she knew that Henry was still holding back. She could tell by the way he tried to avoid penetrating her too forcefully or putting too much pressure on her belly. This consideration he showed even in a moment of greatest pleasure, opened her heart even more for her husband until she thought she would burst with the intensity of her emotions.

"I love you", Catherine confessed and the way his face lightened up upon hearing her words flooded her innermost with warmth.  
"I love you, too, Catherine."  
Their gazes merged the same way their bodies did, and when Catherine felt Henry's imminent climax, she squeezed her vaginal muscles one last time. With a low groan from deep inside his throat, Henry pounded into her a few more times, then he howled as his body jerked with the force of his orgasm and he emptied himself into her.

But instead of collapsing on top of her, as Henry usually did, did he roll over. He pulled Catherine along, embracing her from behind as he had done earlier during their lovemaking. His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck and she listened to the beat of his racing heart. Only minutes later did his heartrate calm down a bit.  
"Are you all right, my love?" Henry's baritone broke the silence and as if to substantiate his question, one of his hands lay itself over her belly to pet their child.  
"I've never felt better," Catherine replied truthfully, enjoying their emotional intimacy, the warmth of his body and his caresses.


End file.
